


A Thrill I've Never Known

by PorkChop



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Con Artists, Crimes & Criminals, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Relationship, Fix-It, Hunters & Hunting, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Loss of Parent(s), Loss of Virginity, POV First Person, Slow Burn, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2020-04-05 12:35:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 56
Words: 231,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19039648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PorkChop/pseuds/PorkChop
Summary: Reader has been a lone wolf for a long time, and intends for it to stay that way. However, she soon realises that having a little company and help from others isn’t so bad.Super slow burn fic, loosely following the events of the game (so full of spoilers), it may not necessarily be in perfect chronological order/follow canon completely. I'll be changing certain things up whenever I see fit, and while some characters may die, Arthur will not. It's going to have smut in it later down the line! Finally, this is unlikely to be completely historically accurate since I'm not a historian, but I will try and be as accurate as possible :)





	1. Bait

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for a while and have a few chapters done, so updates shouldn't be too far apart. Feedback and comments make my day, so I'd love to hear what you think! I hope you enjoy this and stick around for the long ride this fic is likely to be :) Also, you can find me on tumblr @porkchop-ao3

There'd been a few times in my life that I thought I might die. That time I'd been real sick, when my whole family had been, I was surprised at my luck when I pulled through. That time Henry got more violent than he usually did and had to be dragged off of me by pa. That time I was chased by that buck, very nearly speared on his antlers before I got a clean shot at his head. I guess all those times though, I'd had a seed of hope in me. Somewhere inside I knew I'd get out of it, and that allowed me to keep my head on straight instead of falling into despair. 

This time – feeling dizzy and disoriented, rope burn on my arms and legs from struggling, one pounder of a headache and the taste of blood soaked into the rag wedged in my mouth – I failed to find that hope. 

I had no idea where I was, all I could do was scream behind the rag, as muffled as the sound was, it was my only hope. I screamed as loud as I could for as long as I could, pushing through the scratchy pain in my throat. It was night time and I was laying in the middle of a road, that's about all I could tell. I'd been rolling in and out of consciousness for who knows how long, strapped onto the back of a horse and getting hit any time I started hollering. I'd heard snippets of conversations, men talking, and one woman. Something about using me as bait. 

I wasn't much of a fisherman but I couldn't see what use I'd be, of course if I hadn't been punched in the head repeatedly I might've understood that it had nothing to do with fishing at all. 

It came as a nice surprise when finally my screams didn't get another punch to the face and I seemed to be alone. Who knows what they'd done to me, why they'd taken me from my camp. I was hardly worth robbing, but I guessed it was my weapons they were after. That and perhaps all my food.

I lost track of time with all my yelling and sobbing, I felt on the verge of throwing up with that wet, nasty rag in my mouth pushed so deep it nearly triggered my gag reflex. It felt like I was there for hours when I finally heard hoofs hitting the ground, slowing up before I had time to worry about being trampled. The rider dismounted, running over to me.

“Holy shit!” the person was male and had a raspy voice, I saw his boots but before he reached me I heard a gun being cocked behind me.

In a moment of clarity, I understood what was happening. The people who'd captured me were still around, hiding in the tall grass by the road, and they hadn't hit me when I screamed because that's exactly what they wanted me to do. _Bait._

“If you've got any brains you'll give us everything you've got in that satchel. And on your horse,” the female of the group said. I heard the rider sigh. 

“You've gotta be kidding me,” he groused. I heard the crunch of his boot on the ground as he started to back away. “I ain't doing this, if _you've_ got any brains you let me walk away from this.”

“I ain't telling you twice,” the woman raised her voice and stepped forwards, she was standing right beside me. I had a terrible feeling that – even though I couldn't see her – she was pointing her gun at the back of my head. I whimpered and sobbed, squirming, ropes cutting into my arms.

“You heard the lady!” One of the other guys yelled, then there was an almighty bang… followed by many more. 

I tensed up, burying my face in the dirt in some vain attempt at protecting my head from the roar of gunfire going on above me. It didn't last long, and I waited for the outlaws to loot the poor guy I'd played a part in attracting. Imagine my shock when it was him who stepped over me to loot their bodies instead. I lifted my head, finally managing to look at the guy; tall and lean, long dark hair below his hat, a duster coat that dragged on the floor when he crouched down to the corpses surrounding us. 

I cried out to him to get his attention, being largely ignored until he was finished with the bodies. He finally turned to look at me and addressed me with a poisonous look in his dark eyes. It dawned on me that he thought I was one of them. My cries became desperate, I tried to enunciate the words _help me_ with little luck. With a heavy sigh he approached me, rolled me onto my back and pulled the wad of material out of my mouth. Up close, when he saw the blood and the state of my face, his expression softened.

“Please! Please, untie me! Those fuckers, they- they- they-” my mouth was dry and my words came out worse than the town drunk's. My throat was in agony.

“Hey, shh, shut up, calm down,” he hissed, studying me closely. He ran his hands up and down the sides of my body and I flinched and struggled under his touch. 

_Shit. This guy has just annihilated a whole group of gunslingers. What if he's much, much worse than them?_

“For the love of God don't hurt me, I'm not one of them, I didn't mean to bring you in on-”

“Shut up! I'm just checking you ain't armed.” 

I held my tongue and stayed still, and breathed a sigh of relief when he seemed satisfied that I wasn't a threat. Though, that did mean that those fuckers had stolen all of my weapons. At least I still had my life… 

“I'm gonna untie you, but first, tell me what the hell all that was about.”

“I don't know! I was just out in the woods and they grabbed me. Beat the crap out of me. Next thing I know I'm here. I didn't realise they wanted to use me to lure someone in to rob. I promise I ain't one of them, I don't even know who they are. I just wanna get out of here!”

“What's your name?” he questioned. I told him and he continued to stare at me for a few moments, eyes narrowed. “Alright,” he muttered, then rolled me back onto my stomach. He took a knife to the ropes and freed me.

“Oh, thank you!” I breathed, sitting up and rolling my shoulders, taking a moment to sit and gather myself. I felt dizzy. 

A glance around me showed corpses everywhere; I noticed the woman of the group was wearing my clothes. That's when I realised the state of undress I was in – just my underthings – and huddled in on myself.

“You need water?” 

“No, I couldn't-” he shoved a canteen at me regardless. I didn't protest and drank, only realising then how much I needed it. I could've kept going when I handed it back to him, but I didn't want to drink all of it.

“You need a ride somewhere?”

His question struck me with an unpleasant, sickly feeling. Where on earth would I go? All of my stuff had been taken by my captors, I had no idea what they'd done with it while I had been out cold. My guns were gone. All of the food I had. My tent, my blankets, my clothes. All of it. 

“You got a house? A family?” 

“Maybe it would've been better if you just shot me like the rest of them,” I muttered, burying my head in my hands. “I've got nothing. Been living out of a tent for the past year, that was my home and it's gone.”

There was an awkward pause as he just stood there looking at me, he obviously didn't know what to do and I couldn't blame him. Part of me wanted to tell him to go away, leave me alone so I could just sit and cry until I figured out what I was going to do. 

“Listen… I'm staying pretty close to here. How 'bout I take you there and you can rest up, lick those wounds for a while.” 

“You don't even know me.”

“No, but what kind of man would I be to leave a woman out here stranded, hurt, with no place to go?” he questioned, grabbing my upper arms and helping me up to my feet. My head pain flared with the movement and I groaned, screwing my face up. “Come on. I ain't taking no for an answer.” 

“Thank you,” I sighed, letting him guide me over to his horse and lift me onto it. 

“Name's John, by the way. John Marston.” 

-

John rode me to where he was staying, I was surprised to see that it wasn't a house; it was a campsite of sorts with lots of other people there. As soon as I saw it I began to feel anxious. I wasn't sure if I wanted to be surrounded by a bunch of strangers, one was enough. We were greeted by a lady, stern looking with her hair fashioned into a bun atop her head. She watched me carefully as John helped me down from his horse. 

“Miss Grimshaw,” he nodded to her in greeting. “Just had an eventful ride. Found this one not too far away, I think she's in need of a little help. Got herself caught by a bunch of idiots who tried to rob me. I took care of 'em, but she don't have anywhere to go.”

“Well we'd better have her then, come on. Look at you, you're in quite a state,” she seemed a little perturbed by the sight of me. I had no idea what my face looked like but I doubted it was pretty. “I'm Susan. Why don't you come with me and we'll wash you up, get that blood off'a you.” 

“John?” I mewled like a little child, asking after its mother. He was a familiar face I wasn't quite ready to be left without. 

“You'd better come too, you can tell us more about what happened,” Susan seemed to understand my worries.

“I don't know all that much myself, but sure,” John shrugged, coming along with us as she walked me over to a nearby wagon. As we walked a few people stared, I kept my head down, not enjoying being on display when I was in such a mess. 

Susan sat me down on a blanket underneath an awning and wrapped another blanket around my shoulders to cover me. She sent a girl off to fetch a bucket of water, Mary-Beth her name was. While she was away I learned the names of two others, Karen and Tilly, when Susan scolded them for staring. I imagined they weren't particularly happy with me, it was late and they likely wanted to sleep. 

Though perhaps not, the sound of a guitar could be heard somewhere else in the camp. Maybe I was just interrupting a pleasant evening. I felt guilty, wrapped up in my head as John relayed what he'd experienced. Mary-Beth came back with the bucket of water, and Susan kneeled down in front of me. 

“Hold still,” she said, holding my chin gently with one hand as she carefully cleaned my face with a wet washcloth. 

She wiped blood from around my nose, the corners of my mouth, my forehead, my hairline. It was dark but I imagined the water turning a rusty orange as she rinsed the cloth. She cleaned a few scratches on my arms; though I knew they weren't from my ordeal. They were merely hunting wounds, marred by tree branches.

“Not as bad as I feared. You looked much worse with all that blood; you got a couple of black eyes but your nose ain't crooked, your teeth are all there. I think you'll be fine.”

“Thank you.”

“I'll go and explain to Dutch,” John said, getting up from his spot on a wooden box next to me. I watched as he left, then dropped my eyes to the ground. I didn't know John much better than anyone else, but I still felt nervous without his presence. It'd been a long time since I'd had any company whatsoever. It was daunting. 

“How you doing, uhh, what was your name again?” Mary-Beth took John's seat. I told her my name without looking up. “I heard John say you got kidnapped, or something?”

“I did. I'm honestly not sure what happened, my mind's still all foggy. I hope they didn't knock all the sense out of me,” I mumbled, and the girl laughed a little, then apologised. “They got me this morning… I think. I've been knocked out for most of it. I was out pulling down my camp in the woods and they came out of nowhere, just bashed me on the head, grabbed all my stuff and took me away. I don't remember all that much, like I said, I've been out.”

Mary-Beth, Susan, Karen and Tilly all stayed near me, listening. I figured I owed them an explanation since they'd been so kind to me. 

“I ended up out layin’ on the road. I thought they'd left me for dead so I hollered as much as I could. John turned up and, well, you heard him. I don't intend on intruding for long, I just needed somewhere to stay and figure things out.”

“What about your family?” Tilly questioned.

“I don't have one. Ma and pa are long gone. My brother got himself killed last year. Since then I've been on my own, living off the land, sleeping in a tent.”

“You’re homeless?” Karen asked. I felt a little on the spot so I looked up at her, meeting her gaze. 

“Ain't you? Only difference is you've got more wagons and friends here.”

“Can't argue with that,” she shrugged. 

“I couldn't afford to keep up with the loan repayments once my brother Henry was gone. The bank took the house and that was that.”

“I'm sorry about your brother,” Mary-Beth said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

“Don't be. That guy put me in worse states than this on more than one occasion. He was violent. That's what got him killed in the end; started a bar brawl down in Blackwater with a bunch of fellers he couldn't handle. Whole place broke out, I damn near got swept up in it. I probably would've died with him if it weren't for a gentlemen who helped me out of there; I was three sheets to the wind, could barely stand,” I explained with a dry laugh. 

“You got a habit of needing to be saved by men?” Karen snorted. 

“Karen,” Susan warned. 

I sighed and rubbed at my temples then looked up at Susan. “You mind if I sleep here?” 

“Of course not. There's some more blankets up on that wagon if you need them.” 

“Thank you for your kindness. I hope to be out of your hair shortly.” 

“Nonsense. Us folk are no strangers to helping those who need it. Rest up now.”


	2. New Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Settling into camp and meeting new faces! No warnings necessary for this chapter really, let me know what you think so far :)

The camp felt different in the morning. I hadn't moved from the spot I'd been put in the previous night but I could see better now, saw just how populated the place was. I heard music playing again, this time from a phonograph rather than a guitar. People were dotted around the place sipping on mugs of hot coffee, some people were still lounging where they slept. Mary-Beth had lent me one of her dresses to wear, considering the previous day's events had left me in a chemise. A feller smoking a cigar standing outside a tent not far from me kept looking over; he was dressed mighty finely, smart black vest with golden watch chains, a nice hat on his head. He didn't look like someone camping out in a tent, but he sure looked like he owned the place.

In the light of day I realised where I was, I hadn't been able to tell in the dark, but I recognised it. I planned on asking John when he came over to me with two mugs in his hands, offering one out to me. I greeted him as he asked; “how're you feeling this morning?”

“A little better. Still feel a little fuzzy but my head's not pounding no more,” my voice was all scratchy from the screaming I'd been doing. I held onto the mug of coffee he'd given me and inhaled, thanking him. It'd been a while since I'd had coffee, it smelled good. 

“Good. I was worried about you last night, I don't know much about head injuries but… you know,” he was staring at me a little too intently. Well, not really me, my face and the state it was in. 

“How ugly do I look?” I cut to the chase and he chuckled. 

“Not half as ugly as me,” he gestured to the fresh looking scars on his own face. I could've disagreed about him being anything close to ugly now that I was seeing him in the daylight, but I kept that to myself. “You're just bruised and swollen, that'll fade.”

“I hope so. Though, 's not like I got anyone to impress anyway,” I shrugged, sipping my coffee. “Is this Horseshoe Overlook?”

“It is,” he nodded, moving to sit down beside me. 

“I camped here a while ago, moved on though, felt too open with just my tent and my horse,” I told him. 

“You have a horse?”

“Used to, she got stolen by a man in Valentine. Though I suppose it was my fault, I really pissed him off...”

“You know who took her?” he surmised.

I looked at him and considered for a moment how much I wanted to tell him. I decided there wasn't much harm in being open; you didn't get as good at shooting as him by living an honest life. “Not by name. I met him at a bar, thought he was drunker than he was and tried to lift his money. He got me arrested and when I got out – was barely in there ten minutes – she was gone. Feller smoking outside told me _my friend_ took her.”

“I'd have gone after the bastard.”

“Yeah well, I hadn't slept in days and I… I was scared, if I'm honest. I kept telling myself I'd look for her the next day, and then the next day, and the next one, but I just never did. That was weeks ago now,” I sighed sadly, thinking of her and how I missed her. Guilt sat heavy in my stomach.

“I'm sorry. I spoke to Susan last night, I heard about your folks and your brother. Sounds like you ain't had an easy ride these last few years.”

“I'm alive, ain't I?” I shrugged and John offered a small, sad smile. “And partly thanks to you,” I added. John shook his head and went to speak, but was cut short.

“ _Strauss!_ ” A yell had us both looking up; a gentleman was just riding into camp. He swung down off his horse without hitching it and marched into camp, looking around. He was pretty beefy, all power behind the swing of his arms as he walked, his strong brow was set low over his eyes and his stubbled jaw was tight. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little bit scared. “Strauss! Where is that slimy fool?” 

“I’m coming, Herr Morgan, calm down,” a small, spectacled man came scurrying into view, clinging a ledger to his chest. “I trust the collection went well?” I couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic.

“Why you gotta go ‘round lending to sick men?”

“Sick men are desperate, they need the money.”

“Well, that Mr. Downes you sent me to was dead before I got there.”

“His wife is still alive though, no?” 

“You expect me to hassle a widow for money when her husband's still warm in his grave? Come on, Strauss. I ain't doing that.” 

“You must! We need that money back, Arthur. We aren't a charity.” 

“Send someone else!” Arthur, as he'd been named, turned his back on Strauss and started heading off. 

“Who do you suppose I send? Tilly?” Strauss questioned, this time he was definitely being sarcastic. The girl in question looked up from where she was washing some clothes by the nearest wagon. “You're the only one who can handle it, Arthur. You must.”

Arthur turned back around, sighing in annoyance and taking a moment. He was staring at the ground, frustrated, unsure. With a final growl he muttered; “I ain't doing it now. I'll go back to Downes’ place when that poor woman's had some time.”

“We can't afford to go easy on people, not with so many new mouths to feed,” Strauss waved his book in my general direction before sweeping off, putting all of Arthur's attention on me. 

His expression softened just a little, shifting to surprise. It felt odd, having him look me directly in the eye. Watching that whole thing felt almost like I wasn't really there, or like I was at the theatre, suddenly I was pulled back into the moment. I felt something when I looked at him, something in the far reaches of my mind, a nagging thought that I couldn't grasp. 

His mouth opened and closed a couple of times but in the end he just walked away, shaking his head. I let out a puff of breath and looked at John. He was digging his finger in his coffee, wincing as he burned himself over and over. 

“Damn bug landed in there,” he explained when he caught me staring. He didn't seem at all fazed by all the shouting. 

“That Arthur; I think I recognise him.” 

“Arthur? Probably. The guy's had his face plastered on that many bounty posters.”

“I ain't no bounty hunter,” I said as I sipped on my coffee again. 

-

My first day staying at the camp saw me up on my feet again. I didn't seem to have any lasting difficulties resulting from my ordeal, the dizziness I'd experienced was fading enough that I could stand up and lend a hand with some chores; I felt that was the least I could do. 

I'd met a few more people; Pearson, whom I found myself getting along with quite well as I helped him cut up some vegetables. Charles, a gentleman I spoke to only briefly and addressed me in a quiet, respectful manner as he welcomed me. Sadie, a lady who I learned had been initiated into the group in a fairly similar way to myself; being pulled from a bad situation with little to go back to. I'd stressed that I wasn't intending to stay to become a permanent feature, but when she questioned what I'd do instead, I drew a blank. I met Hosea, he was a kind man and offered to make me something to put on my bruises to help them fade quicker. I'd politely declined, thinking I looked enough of a mess without walking around with some mashed up herbs smeared on my face as well.

I felt achy and tired but I pushed myself to be useful. By mid afternoon I'd done a fair bit, and was in the process of brushing someone's horse for them when I was approached by the man who I had spotted earlier, in the fancy getup, John by his side. 

“Good afternoon, Ms,” he waited until I filled in the blank with my surname. “Glad to finally make your acquaintance. I apologise for not doing so earlier, but I see you've had your hands full,” he gestured to the horse.

“I wanted to do my bit, just a little way of saying thank you for having me last night. I don't mean to intrude, I imagine I'll be leaving soon.”

“You're welcome to stay as long as you need to in order to get back on your feet; especially if you plan on continuing to help with those chores,” he chuckled, reaching to take my hand and give it a gentle squeeze and a shake. “Dutch Van Der Linde.” 

The name hit me like a bullet, immediately flashing off images in my head, firing synapses. I took in a sharp breath, eyes widening slightly. The smile on Dutch's face fell.

“Dutch Van Der Linde,” I repeated, my lips moving for me without permission as I glanced past them into the camp, then up at John. “You're Dutch's Boys.” 

The two men shared a look, and Dutch's hand moved to his hip, just above his holster. I realised my error immediately. 

“Don't worry! I won't tell no one, I promise. You've all been so kind to me. I just… I read in the newspaper about you. The boat, in Blackwater. I was there not long before that happened.”

John looked between Dutch and I with a slight grimace, while Dutch's eyes were planted firmly on him, disapproval plastered all over his face. 

“John,” Dutch started softly, taking his elbow in hand and pulling him away. He was still in earshot, and I could hear every word. “This is exactly what I was worried about when you brought her here last night. I told you it was a bad idea.”

“Come on Dutch, she's harmless,” they both looked at me and I panicked, turning back to the horse I'd been brushing and continuing with an unsteady hand. 

I wasn't worried about being kicked out of the camp. I'd been trying very hard not to get comfortable as it was, I was accustomed to surviving on my own, getting involved with a group would no doubt chip away at the independence I'd had to build over the past year. Being kicked out of the camp would hardly be an issue. I was more concerned about them murdering me, silencing me for good before I had a chance to cash in on the bounty on the infamous Dutch Van Der Linde. Truthfully, I wasn't interested. Like I'd said to John, I was no bounty hunter; I'd have no idea of the territory I'd be stepping into, and I didn't fancy my chances against the whole lot of them. 

Dutch turned his body away, urging John to do the same. I glanced at them occasionally, realising it was John doing most of the talking and Dutch was deep in thought. I could no longer hear their words but every second that passed had me feeling more and more eager to jump on the horse and go like the wind. Before I reached tipping point, they came back to me. 

“Like I said, you're welcome to stay as long as you need to, my dear. That's if you don't mind living with a whole gang of outlaws, as you clearly seem to understand is the case,” Dutch said, surprising me to no end. I stared at him for a few moments.

“Well, I'm hardly innocent myself,” I shrugged my shoulders weakly. He smiled.

“Hmm, John mentioned you'd had a run in with the law,” Dutch nodded thoughtfully. 

“Just the once. I don't make a habit out of robbing people… only when I have to. Sometimes it's nice to have a little extra cash to get a hotel room with, when it gets cold,” I admitted. 

“That's certainly something I can sympathise with,” Dutch chuckled. “I understand you've lost all of your things, your weapons, your tent, your clothes…” he trailed off. 

“That's right,” I confirmed.

“Your horse,” he added, his tone deepening. “And you have some idea of the whereabouts of the feller that took it, is that right?” 

I lifted one shoulder awkwardly. “A vague idea. He mentioned Emerald Ranch, I don't know if he lives there or what, but that'd be the first place I'd look if I actually had the guts,” I admitted.

“Well then, I'd like to help you get your horse back.”

My brows jumped up in surprise. “Are you serious?” 

“You've been extremely helpful today. I can see that you're a hardworking woman and we could always use an extra pair of hands to keep the camp running at its finest. If you stick around, I don't see why we can't give it a try,” he explained. John seemed about as surprised as I was. 

“Well, I… how long do you want me for?” I questioned hesitantly. 

“Let's give it until those bruises of yours heal, and then see how you feel,” he flashed a smile that was both charming and intimidating before walking away. I couldn't tell whether Dutch actually liked me. 

John awkwardly scratched at the back of his head, hanging around a few steps away from me. 

“So am I… I'm staying with you guys, at least for now?” I murmured. 

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “I told him you'd work. It was either that or…Well, I don't know what he'd do. He's been extra cautious lately.”

“Right, and by work you mean I'm just hanging around doing chores for y'all?” I quirked a brow and John chuckled. 

“I'm sure Dutch'll find something else for you to do. Everyone has a job here, going off their strengths.”

“Well, I'm hardly a gunslinger,” I said almost apologetically.

“Of course not. Most of the girls generally don't get involved with anything too heavy, but they have their jobs.” 

I looked over at where the ladies of the camp were sitting. Some were knitting, others were reading, the camp was winding down for the day. 

“What do they do?”

“Don't worry about that for now, okay? Just keep doing what you're doing,” his vagueness worried me. My mind jumped to conclusions about the kind of work the women did if the men were all out shooting and robbing. I felt the need to address my concerns. 

“I don't mean to be rude, or presumptuous,” I dropped my volume, stepping into John's space. 

“What?”

“There's certain work I'm not prepared to do, whether you'll help me get my horse or not,” I told him, hoping he'd work it out. The confusion plain as day on his face told me he didn't. “I ain't whoring myself out for nobody,” I bluntly rephrased. 

Realisation washed his features but he didn't flinch at my words, he simply shook his head.

“Don't worry, that ain't gonna happen. Dutch; he ain't like that.”

I nodded firmly, relief flooding me. From the corner of my eye I saw someone staring; giving me a funny look. Abigail. I hadn't spoken much to her but I had learned enough to know that I was standing three inches away from her feller, and I immediately distanced myself. 

“Well, good. Just so that's clear,” I mumbled, and walked away. 

-

I'd spent the rest of the day doing menial tasks, helping out wherever I could, but by the evening time I was just getting in the way. I sat myself down around the back of a wagon, tucked out of sight near the horses, just watching them. Spending time caring for them, brushing them and making sure they had enough to eat, had made me miss Rayna, my own horse. She'd been the last living thing I'd spent any extended length of time with and when I sat down to think about it, it hurt. I hoped that we'd be able to find her whenever it was time to go looking for her. 

I leaned my head back to the tree I was sat against and sighed loudly, closing my eyes. It was too early to sleep but I felt exhausted; though not much was new there. I was hungry but tried my best to ignore it, I'd felt too nervous grabbing some of the stew I'd helped prepare without a direct invitation to. 

Someone close to me cleared their throat and I opened my eyes with a start. I was half expecting to see John, but instead it was Arthur. My pulse immediately quickened and I moved to stand up, feeling as though I'd been caught doing something I shouldn't, I wasn't sure why. 

“Don't get up, you're alright,” he waved me down with his hand and shook his head. “So you're the new girl, huh?” 

“I guess I am,” I shrugged, looking at his boots because it was easier than looking into his eyes. I just felt weird every time I did, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. 

“I just wanted to say, uh, I'm sorry for the way I acted this morning. Coming in here, yellin’ like that, wasn't the best of impressions I'm sure. I know you ain't had it easy,” he took his hat off and held it with both hands behind his back, looking all proper and respectful. His tone was completely different to the one he'd used earlier, he sounded like a different person entirely. I couldn't escape the feeling that I recognised him, more than ever. 

“There's no need for you to apologise, I'm the one intruding. And I'm not looking for pity, neither. I can't say I've ever really met anyone who has had it easy,” 

“You're probably right about that,” he nodded and gave a quiet, humourless chuckle. “Well, I won't disturb you. There's some stew left, if you're hungry, Pearson said you hadn't eaten yet.”

“Thank you,” I said, finally getting the reassurance I needed to help myself. I stood up.

“I'm Arthur, though you already knew that.” 

“I heard your name earlier,” I nodded, reaching out to shake his hand as I introduced myself. He nodded and gave me a knowing smile. 

“I caught your name too,” he said, pausing a moment too long before he left.


	3. Put To Work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spending some quality time with Arthur :) This chapter contains hunting, just a heads up.

A few days passed in the camp and I was starting to feel like a spare part. Dutch would find something for me, that's what everyone kept assuring me, but I'd been doing nothing but chopping vegetables next to Sadie and hanging up the washing to dry with Tilly. I felt like a housewife; it wasn't what I had in mind when I pictured the sorts of things I'd be doing with a gang of outlaws… then again, they were jobs that needed doing whoever you were.

I overheard Pearson telling Charles about a lack of meat. Charles hadn't had a chance to go out hunting in a few days and that wasn't changing on that particular morning, considering he was on guard duty for the camp. I all but spat my tongue out trying to interject. 

“I can hunt,” I said with all the hope and enthusiasm of a five year old. They both looked at me blankly. “If you need meat, I can go. Almost everything I've eaten for the past year has been killed and cooked by myself. Dutch wants something for me to do to contribute, maybe this is it.” 

“It's worth asking him,” Charles shrugged. “We do need the food.” 

“I can forage too. I know a few good places around here to pick berries and carrots.”

“Yeah, alright, he's asking,” Pearson chuckled, gesturing to Charles as he crossed the camp to find Dutch. 

Oh, it'd be nice to get out of the camp. I used to move around almost every other day when I was on my own, it was easy enough to pack up my things with how little I actually kept with me. Four days in the same place had me feeling antsy. I watched hopefully as Charles spoke with Dutch, nodding attentively as he listened to whatever he was being told. 

When Charles returned he looked a little withered, sighing quietly before speaking; “he says you can go but you'll need someone to go with you. I can't go, so you'll have to find someone else.”

“I'm perfectly capable of going on my own,” I said.

“I bet you are. But you're used to feeding yourself, not an entire group. You'll be better off with a partner. Why don't you ask Arthur? I've taught him some things about hunting,” he suggested. My heart thudded at the mention of his name. 

“He's asleep,” I pointed to where he was laying on his cot, hat sitting on top of his face. 

“Well, he can't lay around in bed all day. _Arthur!_ ” Charles yelled, and he jumped, groaning as he dragged his hat off and peeled his head up to look around. “Hunting.”

“With who?”

“The new girl.” 

“New girl…” Arthur murmured, moving to sit up as he scrubbed at his face. He looked up at me, sniffed, then put his hat on and stood up. “Alright, gimme a minute,” he said, his tone tired and exasperated.

I felt like a prize idiot. He was bound to hate me now. 

I waited quietly as he readied himself, drinking coffee and spending a few moments with his horse; a Tennessee Walker with a coat a deep, burnt plum colour, mottled with white patches. A very beautiful animal who seemed perfectly calm as he brushed it and saddled it. Charles spoke with him for a moment before heading to the outskirts of camp, standing guard. When Arthur was ready he came over to me, jabbing a thumb back over his shoulder. 

“You ready? You'll need to borrow some weapons.”

“If you don't mind lending them,” I nodded.

“That's no problem,” he said, turning and leading the way. I followed him over to his horse, watching as he pulled himself up onto it. “Charles said you could borrow his horse; it's that one just over there.”

I nodded and walked over to it. I took a moment to familiarise myself with the animal, patting it and speaking softly to it; it seemed like a calm horse and didn't mind me mounting it. I arranged my skirt as best I could, though it still rode up my legs a little but damned if I was going to ride sidesaddle. I missed my pants.

“Come on then, new girl,” Arthur flashed a smile at me before leading the way, taking us through the trees that surrounded the camp. 

He rode a ways away from camp, I still remembered the area from when I'd stayed there and I realised he was leading me to some open space that was heavily populated with deer. I'd hunted there before, and that brought me comfort. At least I wouldn't make an idiot out of myself by being unsuccessful. Hopefully.

We stopped our horses by a large boulder. Arthur dismounted and with his back to me he asked; “you any good with a bow?”

“It's what I usually use to hunt,” I nodded, taking the opportunity to climb down while he wasn't looking. Dismounting a horse in a dress wasn't particularly easy to do in a dignified manner. 

Arthur pulled a bow from his horse and turned to me, nodding towards the horse behind me. “There's one on your horse. Grab it and let's go, I'll let you get the first kill.” 

I did as instructed, quickly building up some nerves about performing in front of him. I'd only ever hunted on my own. Arthur waited and let me lead when I was ready. I readied an arrow in anticipation as I began to head through some nearby bushes. I stepped quietly through the cover of greenery, knowing there was a clearing just on the other side. I stopped before the edge, spotting a buck grazing in the clearing, its rear to us. I crouched down, sensing Arthur do the same right behind me. 

I waited for a moment, raising the bow and drawing back the arrow; aiming above the deer where it's head might be if it looked up. As I waited, my heart raced. Arthur was so close to me I could hear him breathing, and it was more than a little distracting. I took a peek at him and he met my gaze immediately. His eyes held me and I struggled to look away, the worst part was, he looked totally unaffected. I was sweaty and anxious and tense, and for what? In the moments our eyes were locked I could see how nice his were – so striking and blue – he was handsome, and that was probably why I was acting like a dumbass. 

Arthur's eyes snapped away from mine, back towards the deer. It'd raised its head and was in the perfect position for a clean kill; I drew in a quick breath and raised my bow again. I rushed it, I knew it was a bad move, I knew I should've taken a deep breath, adjusted my posture and taken my time. I let go of the arrow and it sailed right past my target. I cursed under my breath and Arthur chuckled as the deer bolted. 

“If that's how you normally work a bow I'm surprised you ain't starved,” he teased me and I sighed, feeling my face burn. 

“I don't _normally_ have company,” I muttered, rising back up and looking around. More deer were off in the distance. 

I went to step out from the bushes, but something held me back. I turned with a frown and Arthur reached out to help me, untangling the fabric of my skirt from the bush it'd hooked onto. I stared at him with slightly widened eyes as he absentmindedly smoothed his hand over the fabric, which happened to be on my backside. He realised his actions and held his hands up. 

"My apologies, miss," he said, and I shook my head dismissively.

“I messed that one up. I know,” I said as I strode out from the bushes and retrieved my arrow from where it dug into the ground. 

“Don't beat yourself up. I weren't expecting you to do it first time.”

“What is that? Talking like I've never done this before,” I cocked a brow at him and he tilted his head. 

“I didn't mean it like that,” he said softly. I kicked myself for my defensiveness and the bite in my tone. I really was making myself out to be a total bitch. 

I took a long breath and turned. “Let's try that again. Stay back a little, would you?”

“Of course, ma'am,” my legs went a little weak at his tone, but I soldiered on. 

I kept low as I crept towards a small group of deer I'd spotted at the bottom of a gentle decline in the earth. This time, Arthur gave me some space and I felt more at ease, though slightly pressured. I had to get it this time, if I didn't I'd be mortified. He'd think I was a fool who couldn't work a bow, didn't know what she was talking about. 

I aimed, ignoring the chatter in my mind and taking a series of slow, deep breaths. With a buck as my target – albeit smaller than the one I'd missed – I let go of the arrow on empty lungs. I could've cheered when it went down quickly and cleanly, but I kept myself composed and straight faced. I looked back at Arthur for his approval, as if I needed it, and he gave me a nod and a smile. My mouth threatened to curl into a smile too, but the last thing I wanted was to look cocky. 

“We'll come back for that. Let's go for another; you wanna do it or shall I?” he questioned.

“I don't mind. I could look for some rabbits while you go for another deer?” I shrugged, knowing I could grab a couple of those easy, especially if we separated and Arthur wasn't watching me. 

“As in, split up?”

“Yeah.”

“You can't wait to get away from me, huh?” He laughed and my mouth opened with no words to come out. “I'm just messing with you.”

“I've been alone for a long time, Arthur. I'm sorry if I'm a little… if I come across as rude.”

“You're fine. Go look for some rabbits,” he waved me off with an amused shake of his head. I watched him walk away in the direction of where the deer scattered, feeling odd. Like I suddenly didn't want to be there. Like I didn't belong around other people, at least not for extended periods of time. 

With a heavy feeling in my chest I set off looking for rabbits. They were everywhere around these parts, it wasn't hard. I got three before heading back to where our horses were waiting, hooking them onto Charles’ saddle. I went back to where the first deer was still laying, deciding what the best way to lift it without getting blood on Mary-Beth's dress would be. It was at that point Arthur found me and lifted the animal for me without even asking. I felt the need to explain myself.

“I wasn't just waiting around for you to do that, I would've carried it myself, but this dress doesn't belong to me,” I told him and he glanced at me with a strange look. 

“I didn't think you were,” he said, puzzled. “I don't mind carrying it, I already put another on the back of my horse. No point in you getting covered in blood too.” 

I noticed the stain on his shoulder, “thank you.”

“Are you alright?” He asked, still giving me an odd look. 

“Weird week,” I sighed. “Don't mind me.”

We reached the horses and he strapped the deer down on the back of the horse I was borrowing. He turned to look at me again. 

“How you settling in, anyway?”

“Alright, I guess. People have been kind to me,” I told him, walking over to the horse and stroking it's mane. Arthur didn't move from where he stood right next to me, I'd expected him to mount his own horse. “And it's been nice falling asleep to Javier's music, when he plays at night.”

“Yeah? You seem a little sad.”

“You don't know me, how can you tell whether I'm happy or sad? Maybe I'm always like this,” I questioned and he pursed his lips. It looked like he wanted to say something, but was holding back. 

It was brought to the forefront of my mind that I still felt I recognised him. With the opportunity presented, I just came out with it; “Have we met before?” 

There was a beat of silence, Arthur seemed surprised yet sort of relieved.

“We have,” he nodded, his shoulders seeming to loosen. 

“Why didn't you say something?”

“I couldn't work out if you remembered me,” he laughed a little, but soon turned serious, thoughtful. 

“I recognise you. I know I've seen your face, I've been wracking my brain.”

“Well, I didn't wanna bring it up, cause…” he trailed off. “It weren't exactly a good night for you.” 

It clicked into place then, the guilt that appeared in his eyes. An uncomfortable air about him. 

“Oh, it was you!” I exclaimed, turning to face him head on. “The night my brother got himself killed. You're the man who helped me.”


	4. Blackwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first night reader and Arthur met :) Contains suggestive conversation, violence and heavy drinking.

I could barely keep my eyes open but I could still hear. The piano had stopped playing and people were shouting, my brother being one of those voices. Who knew what they were saying? I didn't particularly care. I'd come here to let go, to drink and to forget everything for the rest of the evening, and that's exactly what I was doing. The barman had kept sliding shots across the bar and I had kept knocking them back, my hands still managing to find the coins for more despite being completely wasted. 

Someone on my right was speaking to me, I’d told them to leave me alone but they persisted.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” 

“Leave me _be_ ,” I grumbled back to him, holding my head up with both hands, elbows on the bar as I stared down into my shot glass.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but-”

“What’chu want? You see a drunk woman at the bar and think she’ll be an easy lay?” I snorted, shaking my head before necking my shot.

“No, it ain’t like that. I’m trying to-” he cut himself off, and I heard his tone change. “You better back off, boy, or you’ll lose some more of those goddamn teeth, you hear?”

I slumped over to one side and tilted my head, catching a glimpse at the back of the guy’s head. There was most definitely a fight breaking out, but I couldn’t care less. I just wanted to enjoy my evening. 

“Ma'am, you might want to move. Those men are getting a little rowdy and you're too close for my liking,” the man returned to me and warned, touching my elbow. 

I pressed my hand against the bar and pushed myself up so I could look at him properly; I felt like I had the weight of the ocean keeping my head down, either that or the world was tilting and I was fighting against gravity to keep myself upright. I blinked until my eyes focused, and a handsome gentleman with pretty blue eyes and hair the colour of chestnuts came into view. Lots of movement behind him, my brother throwing a fist at someone he didn't like. Again. 

“He'll tire himself out,” I told him with lazy lips. “'s my brother.” 

There was a clatter and a series of smashes as someone got pushed into a table and I groaned in annoyance, wondering how much the barkeep would want for repairs. 

“That's your brother? What's he doin’ getting into fights, shouldn't he be lookin’ after you?” The handsome man said irritably, looking over his shoulder and edging closer to me, arm outstretched as if to shield me as a glass came flying past us. 

“He don't look after me, I look after me,” I told him. 

The yelling got louder, messier, there were more people getting involved. The barkeep was the closest person to me who was yelling and the only raised voice I could understand. He was telling everyone to _stop, take it outside, you'll pay for every broken glass or else._

“I paid for another drink five minutes ago, where is it?” I asked him, being completely ignored. “Hey! Gimme my goddamn drink!” Now I was raising my voice. 

“Miss, I think we should leave now,” the man beside me urged, the hand on my elbow tightening into a grasp as the gang of men beating the crap out of each other grew.

“I ain't leaving here with you, I don't even know your name,” I slurred, I was getting annoyed, that bastard behind the bar had stolen my money!

“It's Arthur. I'm sorry, ma'am but I have t-” his body collided with mine roughly and I went tumbling over. I landed on my ass, falling backwards into someone else's legs and sending them flying too, we were like dominoes. 

“You pushed me!” I whined up at Arthur, not even registering the cacophony of swear words being thrown at me from behind. 

“My apologies, I was pushed,” he held his hand out to me and in the moment I didn't know what he wanted me to do with it. His lovely eyes flashed up over my head and he growled; “don't you start with her, I'm tryin'a get her out of here!” 

He made an irritable sound and then I was being pulled up by my arms and pressed up against his side. 

“Hey!” I called out, trying to organise my feet in such a way so that they weren't dragging on the floor. Somehow, I ended up outside; I could see my breath. The cool air sobered me up just enough that when Arthur let go of me, I stayed on my feet. 

“You alright?” He asked.

“What'chu think you're doing?” I stumbled backwards, straightening out my skirt and blouse. 

“Saving your hide, woman!” He snapped. 

“I was having a drink!”

“I can damn well see that!” He gestured at me with both hands then shook his head and took a breath. “Never mind, I'm sorry. It was getting ugly in there and I can see you ain't in the best of conditions.”

“‘s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean you've clearly had a skinful, you weren't getting out of that place goin’ in a straight line,” he said and I cracked up. He shook his head in bewilderment as I laughed. “You want me to go get your brother?”

“Nah, he pulls this crap all the damn time, he'll be fine,” I waved my hand back and forth and leaned backwards. Luckily there was a post of some description behind me. 

“What am I gonna do with you? I ain't just leaving you here. How far's your home?”

“Uhh, what town are we in again?” I slurred and he looked at me, slack jawed and vacant eyed. 

“I’m just gonna put you in the hotel,” he decided.

“I ain't got the money for that!”

“My treat,” he tutted at me, wrapping his arm around my waist and walking me away from the saloon. His body was hot and solid against mine, I could tell he was strong. I giggled and wrapped a hand around one of his arms. 

“Look at this big, strong man, takin’ care of me,” I commented, looking up at his face to see his cheeks redden. “Mama would approve.”

“Oh, I don't think she would,” he replied, shaking his head. 

“Why's that? Don't be hard on yourself, sir, you're a handsome one,” I told him, patting his cheek. His jaw was a little coarse with stubble.

“And you're drunk,” he laughed, looking down at me. 

“I can still use my eyes!” I exclaimed, tripping over my feet but staying upright thanks to the arm around me. 

“Careful, now,” he warned. 

He led me into the hotel and deposited me onto a chair, holding onto me for a moment to make sure I wasn't going to fall off of it. I was too far gone to be embarrassed about my behaviour and simply grinned up at him. He turned to the man at the desk and requested a room. 

“A room for two?” The man questioned, eyeing me up and looking between us. I giggled. 

“Yeah!”

“No,” both Arthur and I spoke at the same time.

“I'm jus’ kidding, he ain't getting into these britches that easy,” I laughed, noting the way Arthur looked back at me and cocked a brow in amusement. 

“Just a single room for the lady,” he continued, turning back. “Thank you.” 

Arthur made his way back to me and helped me up again, which required a lot of effort on his part. I rather liked being lifted around by such a nice man, I might've played up how off balance I was just to feel his arms tighten. I hummed in appreciation as his large hands settled firmly on my waist, feeling something stirring in me. 

“I've never been held like this before, you know,” I told him. He frowned and seemed upset by this. 

“I'm sorry, ma'am, I fear if I let go you'll hurt yourself,” he explained, taking my hand and putting it on the handrail of the stairs so he could better lead me up them. 

“I weren't saying you should let go,” I said, and Arthur looked at me. His face was so close, he was so handsome, I beamed at him. He cleared his throat and looked down at my feet as he continued to help me up the stairs.

“Can you send some water up to the room, please?” He called back to the clerk.

“Of course, sir.”

“Come on, stand up straight, let's just get you into bed,” he muttered, hastening me. 

“At least buy me dinner first,” I snickered. Arthur sighed and shook his head.

When we made it to the room he sat me down on the bed, prying my hand from where I'd wrapped it around him for support. 

“Now, I'm gonna leave and you're gonna go to sleep and sober up, ya’ hear?” 

“Ooh, so demanding,” I purred and snickered, laying back onto the mattress and peering up at him. Arthur flushed again and shook his head. A lady knocked on the door before she came into the room carrying a tray with some glasses and a container of water. She apologised for the intrusion and left it on the dresser before leaving again. 

Arthur turned and filled a glass. “Sit up, get some fluids in ya’ that ain't booze.”

“I know what kinda fluids you could put in me.” 

“Please. I'm tryin'a be nice,” he complained, holding the glass out to me. I simpered and did as he asked, drinking down the whole glass; he sighed with ease. “Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” I responded, surprising him. “This is all very gentlemanly of you.”

“Yeah well, if I'd have left you there you'd've been on my conscience and I already got enough on that,” he told me, taking a seat on the chair by the door. He sat for a moment, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the wall. 

“Looks like you need this bed more than I do,” I laughed. 

“No, I'm fine. I best be gettin’ on. You take care of yourself, alright? Get some sleep, and don't try going back for your brother tonight.”

“Don't worry, I weren't planning to. He is one heck of an idiot,” I rolled my eyes and laid down on my side, sighing pleasantly at the cushion of a comfy bed. 

“You tell him to start lookin’ out for you. Family comes in many forms but it's important, you gotta stick together.” 

“I will,” I assured him. He rose to his feet and made for the door. Before he left, I called out to him, telling him my name. “In case I see you around again.” 

Arthur chuckled. “That's a lovely name, but, I don't think you will,” he tipped his hat at me before letting himself out. I sighed when the door clicked shut behind him and I rolled onto my back.

The booze in my system pulled me into slumber real quick, that and the comfortable bed and the lack of my brother's snoring through the wall. Arthur made his way into my dreams; the handsome cowboy filling my head with images and sounds that mama would definitely not approve of, and that would turn my face pink with shame once I was sober enough.


	5. Light Duties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just some conversation in this chapter because damn it I love doing dialogue! I’m sorry if this seems to end abruptly, as I was writing this chapter it got really long so I split it in half. The next chapter is (hopefully) a bit more exciting :P

I was so embarrassed. My memories of that night had been hazy, partly because I had tried not to remember. It wasn't a good night; my brother wasn't the nicest of men but I still grieved for him, it was like Arthur had said, family was important and that night I'd lost the last of mine. But I'd acted like such a fool, a hussy, a disaster of a woman. Arthur must've wanted to run a mile when he saw me at the camp for the first time, wondering how on earth I'd decide to harass him this time. I wished I hadn't brought it up.

I stared at a rock on the ground as we stood in silence for a few moments, both of us recalling how it’d gone down. The worst part was, Arthur likely remembered more than I did. Who knows what else I'd said that had slipped my mind. 

_I'm such a goddamn idiot._

“I remembered you as soon as I saw you.”

“I'm surprised, it was a year ago at least,” I noted. 

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement. “Normally I might've forgotten, but... I won't lie, every time I thought back I felt a little guilty, since that night.”

I looked up at him in shock. “What? Why would you feel guilty? You helped me.”

“Yeah, well, I had the opportunity to help your brother and I didn't. I was back in town the next morning and I heard what had happened. I checked at the hotel, but you'd already gone.”

“You did?” I questioned, the crease in my brow softening as he nodded. “Well, I couldn't stick around. The guy who owned the bar wanted me to pay up for damages; whoever starts a fight pays, he said. Since it was my brother, the bill fell to me.”

“I'm sorry about your brother. I saw how bad the fight was getting, I should've stepped in.”

“And got your own face caved in? Henry wouldn't've stopped for much. My pa tried to pull him off of me once, ended up looking worse than I did.”

“You mean he hit you?” Arthur's eyes flashed up at me in horror.

“Sometimes. He'd hit anyone if they bothered him, I learned to keep my mouth shut around him and it didn't happen often towards the end… of him,” I explained. “I know it's bad, but– well, he's gone now.”

“Suddenly I don't feel so guilty,” he said, his voice low. I looked at him, not really sure what to say to that, so I steered the topic a little.

“I apologise for my behaviour that night. I was a mess.”

“No apologies necessary.” 

“No, it is necessary. I was not respectful of you at all, even though you were nothing but kind to me. I wouldn't've blamed you if you'd just left me there, but you didn't. You're a real gentleman and you deserve my apology,” I lifted my head and spoke clearly and concisely despite the fact my face was burning and I wanted to hide away. 

“We've all been there, acted silly on the liquor. It's fine,” he shook his head, flushing too. I knew he was recalling some of the things I'd said. 

“Thank you, Arthur. I'd like to pay you back for that hotel room, soon.”

“You don't have to do that, I was just doing a good deed. I don't want nothing from you, ma'am. Besides, it was a year ago, I'll waive your debt,” he smiled at me and touched my elbow; my cheeks burned hotter. He looked lovely when he smiled.

“Well then, I'll return the favour some other way,” I decided, turning and running my fingers through the horse's mane so I had something to do with my hands. 

“Just keep on doing them chores, new girl, that's good enough for me,” he said, finally stepping away and heading towards his horse. “Come on, let's take these animals back to camp. Good work on those rabbits, all this’ll keep us fed for days.”

“I'm glad I could be of some help,” I told him, mounting my horse.

“You've been a real help, these last few days. Moving to a new camp ain't easy, we haven't been there long, you've helped us more than you know,” he told me, climbing onto his own horse. He started trotting back the way we came, I sidled up to him. 

“I've only been doing basic chores,” I reminded him. 

“Basic chores still need someone to do 'em. The girls always have their hands full with keeping things going while us fellers are out lookin’ for opportunities. I'm sure they appreciate you shouldering some of that. Like I said, we ain't been here long, and the first few weeks is always the busiest.” 

“You were staying in Blackwater before, weren't you? I saw it in the newspaper. I thought Dutch was gonna… well, do something not so nice to me when I realised who you all were. Dutch's Boys, that's what they called you in the papers.”

“Yeah, I know that made him think twice,” Arthur sighed. “But don't worry. You're one of us now, at least for the meantime. You're eager to work, Dutch likes that. He told me so.”

“So that's why he spared me?”

“That and he don't take kindly to hurting ladies,” he frowned, as if remembering something. “Most of the time, anyway.”

“Well I certainly am eager to work, I like to keep busy. And Dutch said if I stick around to help he might help me out too; getting my horse back,” I said and Arthur looked at me with interest, prompting me to continue. “I mentioned that a while back my horse was stolen. I'd been planning on robbing the guy who took her, it obviously didn't go to plan; but I'd know him if I saw him and he kept mentioning Emerald Ranch.”

“So you wanna go over there and get her back?”

“At least try to,” I nodded. “I'd kept meaning to when it first happened but I was on my own and I'd already pissed the guy off enough, I didn't know what I was stepping into so I just– I was too much of a coward.”

“Well, we'll help you get her back. No promises though, don't get your hopes up.”

“I know. For all I know he could've sold her and she's long gone. But even if there's a chance, I wanna try, especially since I wouldn't be going it alone.”

“You've been completely on your own, then, since Henry passed?” He questioned and I nodded my head.

“That's right. I imagine I've been living not too differently to you, moving around, camping out, going into towns for the sake of making money. In my case, I made most of my money off'a meat and animal hides. It weren't a lot, but enough to buy everything that needed buying. Ammunition, arrows, soap and clothes, you know.”

“You ever get lonely?”

“Sometimes. Mostly after Rayna, my horse, was gone,” I shrugged, not dwelling on it. “She was like a blanket, kind of, I felt safe and warm when she was outside my tent at night. It's been rough without her, I won't lie.”

For the first time in months, I felt a lump in my throat. I coughed and turned my head, taking in the scenery to distract myself. 

“I guess it explains why you're so quiet 'round camp. I barely heard a peep out'a you 'til today.” 

“I ain't used to talking this much, I'll end up with a sore throat,” I chuckled, turning back to him. He smiled at me with a trace of pity in his eyes. I hardened at that. “Don't get me wrong. I enjoy being alone, too.” 

“So do I,” Arthur breathed. “Sometimes I like to just take it slow getting back to camp, like we're doing now. Gives me a chance to think,” he adjusted his hat and looked forwards. We were getting close to camp. 

“That's true. Though I must admit, it's been nice talking to you today. Sometimes I forget that human contact ain't always bad,” I laughed. 

“Glad I could remind you,” he smiled. 

When we got back into camp, Pearson came straight over to us, looking pleased. He pulled the deer off of the horse I was on as Arthur took his own. I followed them, taking the rabbits with me, towards the camp's makeshift kitchen.

“Am I glad to see all this,” Pearson said, I could hear his smile in his voice. “These look like a good pair of deer, should be able to make something nice with them.” 

“You good to skin those rabbits? We'll take the deer,” Arthur said, dropping his deer down on the ground. 

“Sure, you got a knife?” I asked and Pearson handed me one. 

I'd had a lot of practice with skinning animals, and I'd gotten better at it over time. My pelts fetched a decent price. I cut down the underside of the first rabbit and then used the knife to gently prise the skin away from the tissues underneath. I couldn't help but notice that my technique was a little different to Pearson and Arthur's; who seemed to favour brute force and after making the initial cut pulled the pelt away mainly with their hands, using the knife sparingly. I cocked a brow but otherwise didn't comment. 

“They got you skinning rabbits now? Sure ain't no work for a lady,” Karen walked by and teased me. I looked up at her after finishing up the first rabbit. 

“And I killed it myself, too,” I quipped back, moving onto the next one. 

“Wow,” she lilted, face wrinkling just a little in disgust. She watched as I drew my blade down the rabbits belly. “I think I'll leave you to it.” 

By the time I was finished with the three rabbits, Pearson and Arthur had hung the deer from the side of the wagon, Pearson took the rabbits from me, thanking me. 

“Those are some clean pelts,” Arthur said, running his hand over the rabbit fur. “If you want, we can go out now and sell 'em.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. We'll bring the deer ones too, put a little money in your pocket,” he placed them both down on the table by the rabbits.

“You'd let me keep the money?” I asked as I rolled up all of the pelts, bundling them nicely together.

“You killed almost all of 'em,” he laughed. “You've helped enough with the meat, I think you deserve the pelts.”

“It'd be nice to buy a new dress or some pants, so Mary-Beth can have her dress back before I ruin it.”

“Well then, let's go–"

“You can't go, Arthur. Aren't you supposed to be meeting Trelawny and Javier? Charles just left,” Pearson piped up, cleaning off his knife. 

“Sean,” Arthur sighed, remembering. “Yeah you're right. I'm sorry,” he turned to me and I shrugged. 

“It's okay, another time.”

“John ain't doing anything, why don't you ask him?” he pointed over at where he was sitting at the table nursing a bottle of beer. He looked up when he heard his name. “He's mostly on _light duties_ anyway, on account of that little scratch on his face.” 

Arthur was wearing a smirk and John sighed, slamming his bottle down a little too hard before getting up, coming over to us. 

“What do you need?” He asked. 

“This little lady needs taking out to sell these pelts. You can handle that, can't you Marston?” Arthur asked, hands on his hips.

“'course,” he said, eyes narrowed at Arthur, who only chuckled. 

“And drop by Valentine too, she'd like some new clothes.”

“Women and their priorities,” John teased me, and once again I was quick on the defense. 

“One or two outfits is fine for me, this dress ain't mine,” I explained as I followed him over to the horses. 

“I know, I'm messing with you. We'll get you some clothes,” he chuckled. He climbed onto his horse then held his hand out to help me up too; this time I rode sidesaddle with the pelts on my lap. It'd save some of the awkwardness of the dress riding up as I was sitting right behind him. 

“Where am I taking you?”

“I know a guy who gives me a good price. He moves around a lot but he should be over on the other side of Dakota river, near the station,” I told him, holding onto his waist.

“I think I know the guy,” he nodded. “Arthur mentioned him once after taking down this massive bear Hosea helped him find. Came in wearing the damn thing on his head,” he laughed as we set off. 

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, looked pretty stupid if you ask me. I told him that, he ain't worn it since," John snorted.

“Aww,” I said sadly. “You must've hurt his feelings.”

“He's a big boy, he can take it. Besides, he gives me enough crap about these wounds.”

“I noticed that. How'd you get them? Some kind of animal, I'm guessing,” I said, tilting my head so I could see the side of the face and the claw marks marring it. 

“Wolves. Nasty business, thought I'd had it,” he told me with an audible breath. 

“I bet. That's my worst nightmare, I think. I've had a couple of run-ins with angry bucks, but other than that I've been lucky. Though, I was bit by a snake when I was just a girl, I'd recommend that about as much as your run in with the wolves.”

“Owch. You suck the venom out?”

“My pa did,” I nodded. “Like you, I thought I was done for. Never been in so much pain in my life.”


	6. Jemima Jones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Up to some mischief with Johnny boy. Contains a little mistreatment of minors (not by any of the main characters btw)

John rode us to the trapper, keeping a fast pace on his horse that reminded me how much I missed riding. We arrived quickly, and John helped me down from the horse when we slowed to a stop near the stall. The trapper looked between us as we approached, greeting me with a nod. 

“Funny to see you with some company,” he noted. I placed the pelts down on his table and unrolled them.

“I've been making friends,” I said a little drily. He inspected the pelts, checking their quality.

“Not your finest work,” he noted.

“The deer? I didn't skin those,” I said, and he glanced up at John. “Not him, neither.”

“My, you really have been making friends. You could teach them a thing or two about skinning.” 

“Didn't wanna be a smart ass,” I shrugged and the trapper laughed. 

“I'll give you ten dollars for the lot.”

“Sure,” I nodded.

“You ain't gonna haggle?” John asked. 

“I've haggled with this feller so much he don't even need it no more, that's a good price.”

“If you say so,” he shrugged. 

I took the money, pocketed it, and said my goodbyes before mounting John's horse again. He rode us back onto the track, keeping to a trot. 

“Where to next, Valentine?”

“If it ain't too much to ask,” I replied.

“Oh it's pushing it, but I'll let you off,” he said, his tone light and jovial. He picked up the pace to a gallop, a longer ride ahead of us than the one down. “Though, I ain't sure what you're planning on buying with ten dollars.”

“It'll probably stretch to a pair of pants. A blouse if I'm lucky.” 

“Pants?” John questioned. 

“More important than a pretty frock, I reckon. Cheaper too. If I'm gonna be working and hunting more, the pants'll come in handy,” I explained with a shrug. He nodded in understanding.

“I was speaking to Dutch the other day about what sorts of jobs we could get you in on.”

“Yeah? I don't wanna shoot nobody,” I said, right off the bat. 

“Didn't think you would. But I was thinking, you did a pretty good job of bringing me into that ambush the other day. Reckon we might be able to flip that on its head, use some of your performative skills.”

“I weren't performing anything, John. I thought I was gonna die,” I deadpanned. 

“I know. And I ain't suggesting we use you as bait like those other fools did, either. A distraction, though. You got that quiet, vulnerable thing going for you–”

“You think I look vulnerable?” I balked, staring at the back of his head with my face screwed up. 

“Now I know you a little better, no. But I think you could pull it off; you're young, quiet, polite, you could bend all that to your favour.”

“And do what exactly?” 

“Say we take a bank, right? You could distract the tellers, easy, while we go in and take control of the place. And they wouldn't even have to know you were in on it, you're just an innocent little thing tryin'a open an account, or, get a hold of some misplaced funds.”

“A bank. Gosh, John, all I've robbed is drunkards in saloons and the occasional empty homestead.”

“Alright, we start off smaller then, we'll figure something out.”

“I'm willing to try,” I nodded. 

“That'll make Dutch happy.” 

“And if I do all this; help you lot make money, you'll help me get my horse back?” I asked.

“Of course, we'll do our best,” he glanced over his shoulder at me and smiled. 

“And then I can leave and get back to what I was doing before, and Dutch won't have to worry about me squealing on you 'cause I'll be incriminated too,” I thought aloud and John chuckled. 

“I suppose that's right. That's if you even wanna leave at that point.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean this life gets pretty addictive, hard to get out of. And Dutch, the community he's built with all of us? Well, it's nice knowing you've got people who'll have your back.”

“I don't know. I think I'm better off on my own.”

“Alright, I ain't gonna try and change your mind,” he said, and we rode in silence the rest of the way to Valentine. 

John accompanied me to the general store, where I was able to purchase a pair of men's work jeans and a belt to keep them up, since they were a little loose around the waist. John was carrying them in his satchel for me. I couldn't afford a top, so I'd have to keep borrowing the girls’ for the time being, but it was a start. A step back towards independence. 

John wanted to run an errand before we headed back, to check to see if the group had received any mail. We stopped by the station and I waited outside for him, sitting on a bench, people watching. There was a woman nearby – dressed in mint green with her blonde hair styled in an immaculate updo – obviously going on a trip judging by the large case sat by her feet. She was causing a scene, yelling at the top of her lungs to the young boy she was with. He must've been about ten, not very old at all, and his case had opened up, spilling his clothes all over the floor. I hadn't seen it happen but I doubted it was his fault at all, but you'd think he'd committed murder with the way she was hollering at him. I watched in uncomfortable silence as he tried to gather it all up again, flushing with humiliation. 

I jumped when John came out to meet me, a letter in hand. 

“Letter for Arthur,” he said, inspecting it. “I think it's from Mary, judging by the handwriting.”

“Mary?” I questioned. He looked over his shoulder, distracted by the screaming woman for a moment. 

“Last I heard she'd got married. She's an old girlfriend of his,” he told me. I felt an unnecessary amount of pressure to keep my expression as neutral as possible. 

A loud snapping sound echoed across the decking, and John and I looked towards it. The kid was sprawled out, clutching his cheek. I covered my mouth, looking up at John who was analysing the situation, looking between the boy, the woman, her case. He turned back to me.

“You wanted some new clothes,” he said under his breath. “Why don't you go talk to her? I'll get you some; she looks about your size.” 

My heart pounded at the prospect but I found myself nodding. I cleared my throat and rose to my feet, brushing out the creases in my dress as I made my way over to her, thinking over what I could say. My mind was drawing a blank, I hoped to God something would come out of my mouth when I reached her, and I could improvise my way through it. 

“Hello, ma'am?” I said, smiling nervously at her. She looked up at me from her boy, eyes narrowed and expression sour. The kid went back to gathering his things

“Can I help you?” She hissed. 

“I was wondering if I could help you, actually,” I told her. “You see, you look like a woman of means, that dress of yours is mighty pretty. I don't s'pose you're looking for a servant girl at all? I'm looking for work and I have a lot of experience, worked for a number of high standing folk.”

“A servant girl?” She scoffed, turning to face me head on, simultaneously putting her back to her baggage. The boy had his back to it too as he knelt on the floor; I saw John strolling by from the corner of my eye, glancing around.

It was pretty quiet on this side of the station, nobody was close enough to really be paying any attention, John just had to get the timing right and I trusted him to do it. 

“Yes, could I be of assistance? I can cook, clean, sew… do childcare.” I added, my voice going up at the end. Her expression shifted to one of consideration.

“You any good at tending to horses, too? Our stable boy got sick and died not long ago,” she said without any softening of her words. It shocked me how easily she just said that, like he wasn't even a person at all. 

“Oh, of course. That was actually a huge part of my last job.” 

“And why'd you lose it? You gotta be looking for work for some reason.”

“My previous employer lost his fortune, he was a heavy gambler. He couldn't keep me,” I explained, shaking my head sadly.

I saw John again, walking behind the woman. As casually as anything he just dipped down and picked up the case, strolling on by around the corner where his horse was hitched. A flutter of exhilaration appeared in my tummy when she didn't even glance back. 

“Well,” the woman said, reaching into her purse and pulling out a pencil and a small diary. She scribbled something down before tearing out the page, offering it to me. “You drop in at this address soon and we can talk more.” 

“Thank you!” I beamed at her, clutching her hand as I took the note, squeezing it in appreciation. “Jemima Jones, it's a pleasure,” I lied, spewing out the first name to automatically roll off of my tongue.

“Mrs. Schwartz. Don't get your hopes up, you have to meet my husband, first,” she told me and I nodded.

“Of course. I will let you get on, then, and I'll see you soon,” I nodded and gave her a little bow before all but skipping off. She watched me leave, an odd look on her face, but I was gone in seconds. I stuffed the note down into my chemise, saving it for later.

John was sat on his horse, ready and waiting with the case on his lap. “Nice work,” he grinned at me.

“You too!”

He held his hand out and helped me up, then handed me the case. "Hold onto me, and don't be shy, I know you've only got one hand with that case. I don't wanna be losing either of you.” 

I shuffled closer to him, wrapping my free arm firmly around his midriff; then he set off. He moved quickly, taking off straight into a gallop to get away from the area as quickly as possible, we probably only had about thirty seconds before the woman would notice her baggage was gone and luckily we were out of there before we heard anything to suggest she had. 

I was grinning the whole way back, thoroughly exhilarated by the whole thing. I'd robbed a handful of people but none of them were as exciting as that; working with a partner, getting out clean, robbing from someone I could say probably deserved it. It had been _fun._

We arrived back at the camp and Karen was keeping guard, looking between us and at the way I was pinned so close to John. She cocked a brow.

“We’ve been busy today!” I told her. 

“You have, huh?” There was an edge to her tone and she made even more of a point of looking back and forth between us. I rolled my eyes and jumped down from the horse as soon as it came to a stop. I held the case up.

“We relieved some sour faced hag of this. I think Mary-Beth'll be pleased; she can have her clothes back,”

“Ooh, I wonder what else is in there,” she said.

“Y’all can do what you please with the rest of it, I'm just interested in some new clothes.”

John and I headed into camp, placing the case down on the table near Dutch's tent. He noticed us and immediately headed over, smoking a cigar. There was a padlock keeping the luggage secure and John pulled something out of his pocket, using it to try and jimmy it open. 

“What's this?” Dutch asked when he reached us.

“The new girl's first job,” John explained. “We saw this nasty piece of work slapping her kid around in the middle of the station, thought we'd take the opportunity to get some new clothes for her.”

John got the lock open and revealed what was inside the case. Laying on top was one of those big fancy hats, he moved it out of the way and there was a high end dress to match underneath it. When he moved that, I was relieved to see some more every day clothes below. I reached in and pulled out a plain, peach coloured skirt; it felt pretty high quality and there was a fair amount of fabric in it, which would come in useful when riding horseback. I draped it over my arm and pulled out a cotton blouse with fine lace running down either side of the buttons down the centre. It was far prettier than anything I'd owned before but it wasn't too elaborate that I'd feel silly wearing it. 

“We can sell some of this,” Dutch said, lifting up the hat. “Should be worth something.”

“There's jewellery too,” I told him, pulling out a little drawstring bag that felt heavy. I handed it to him and he grinned. 

“Very nice. You did good. What was your method of acquiring this?” He asked. 

“I distracted her, posing as a servant girl looking for work, and John picked it up and walked off with it, just like that,” I explained excitably.

“Well done, you two! My dear, you have what you'd like from in here and leave the rest by my tent. You might as well keep the case, too,” he patted the top of my arm and gave me an appreciative nod before turning on his heel. 

“I’d call that a job well done,” John grinned at me, and I mirrored his expression. “Nice to see you're pleased, too, I think this is the first time I've seen you smile.”

“It's been fun! Exciting. Thank you, John.”

“And thank _you,_ ” he held his hand out to me and I shook it firmly. 

Karen was behind us, watching the whole thing with an unreadable expression. I smiled at her and she smiled back, turning away, concentrating on her guard duties.

John handed me the things I'd bought from his satchel. “I'm gonna go put Arthur's letter in his tent, leave you to it. Good work today, I hope we can bring you in on more jobs, if you like.”

“Yeah, I'd like that.” 

He nodded, tipping his hat before heading off. 

I finished going through the case and decided to keep a few things; a couple of skirts and blouses, some bloomers and camisoles, a chemise, two jackets, one of which would be warm enough in cold weather. I had a decent wardrobe coming along and I neatly packed it all into the case with my new pants. I'd acquired a small leather satchel, too, that'd come in handy.

There was quite a haul of decent stuff I wasn't keeping, lots of elaborate clothing and jewellery, as well as some shoes that looked brand new but were far too impractical for me to consider keeping. I was lucky in the sense that my kidnappers had at least left my boots on my feet, anyway. I left all of the stuff near Dutch's tent like he'd asked me to, and then headed off to change into my new clothes.


	7. The First Shall Be Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting to know the gang a little more and welcoming Sean! :) I’d really appreciate some feedback on what you guys think of this story so far!

There was lots of commotion in the camp, a new face I hadn't seen before, with everyone welcoming him back. He'd arrived with Arthur, Charles and Javier and immediately grabbed everyone's attention. You could hear him from a mile away; Sean, his name was. Irish feller. I hung back while the commotion died down, watching as everyone was crowding around him, asking about what'd happened to him, if he was okay. He seemed cheery enough, and I heard Dutch declare a party. 

I was sitting by the girls’ wagon on my own, washing the clothes I'd borrowed from Mary-Beth, and Arthur approached me once everyone had dispersed from around Sean. He gestured to me with his hands.

“New clothes? Surely you didn't get those with just the money from those pelts.”

I was wearing the nice blouse and peach skirt. “No, John and I acquired these by other means,” I chuckled. 

“Is that so?” He laughed, nodding in understanding. “You seem happier.”

“I feel it. Today's been a good day, felt good to get out there and be productive,” I nodded and smiled at him. 

“That's good, have some fun tonight, Dutch reckons we're having a party.”

“I heard. You fellers rescued that Sean today, he's one of the group?”

“That's right, man's a nuisance at times but, against my better judgement I thought I'd better help get him. We lost him after that mess back in Blackwater,” he explained. “Hope you don't value your sleep, he's got a mouth on him.”

“I could tell,” I nodded, hearing him from the other side of camp right on cue. We shared a laugh and he paused a moment, hesitating before turning away slightly. 

“Anyway, I'll leave you to it,” he nodded at me before backing away. 

“See you around,” I smiled. 

I was alone for only a few moments before Mary-Beth came over, grinning at me. “You heard? We're having a party!”

“Arthur told me,” I nodded, squeezing out the water from her dress before rising to my feet and hanging it up. 

“I heard you went hunting with him today,” she said, coming and sitting down near me on a storage crate. 

“Yeah, I figured I could be more useful around here and I heard we were getting low on meat. I enjoyed myself, it was nice to get out and do something I'm familiar with,” I told her with a smile and she nodded. “Arthur and I had a good chat, I enjoyed spending some time with him. And hey, you'd never believe the coincidence but I've met him before.”

“You have?” She raised her brows in surprise and I took a seat next to her on the ground.

“In a bar in Blackwater,” I explained and she gave me a mischievous look, I went red in the face. “Not like that, he saved me from a bar brawl, I mentioned it before. My brother,” I trailed off, not needing to explain further. 

“Now that is a coincidence," she said, humming thoughtfully.

“An embarrassing one,” I laughed, face still feeling hot. “I made a fool out of myself that night.” 

“I'm sure he don't mind,” she assured me.

“He was very gentlemanly about it, he's a kind man,” I said softly, letting out a breath. Mary-Beth was quiet for a moment, watching my face carefully before carrying on.

“That he is,” she said, looking me up and down with a certain impish look in her smile. “You look nice in those new clothes, and your bruises are healing. I didn't notice with your injuries but you're quite a beauty, aren't you?”

“I don't know, nobody's ever told me so,” I shrugged, feeling flattered all the same. 

“Well, I'm telling you so,” she smiled. 

“You probably just think so because you're used to seeing my eyes all swollen and purple, anything’s an improvement,” I laughed, shaking my head. She tutted, swatting my knee playfully. 

“You're how I picture the lady in one of my books; she's quiet and modest but she works hard and doesn't see her own worth. You should take the compliment,” she said, and I couldn't think of a response so I simply smiled at her. “You want me to make your hair look pretty for the party?”

“You wanna do my hair? That's kind of you. I don't really know how to do much with it, ma never taught me.” 

“She didn't? Oh, can I braid it and pin it up?” Her face lit up and I couldn't in good conscience deny her. “Maybe one day I can teach you, but for now, come sit down in front of me. Let me get my things.” 

She quickly fetched a little box full of hair supplies before sitting back down, I took my position on the ground by her feet, arranging my skirt to cover my crossed legs. I was wearing my hair tied back with a ribbon like I always did to stop it getting in my way; I'd never managed to make myself look as put together as Mary-Beth or the other girls, I didn't know how to. My mother would do my hair as a child and as I got older and she became busier I simply never learned.

Mary-Beth removed the ribbon and brushed my hair, carefully working out all of the knots; and there were a lot. She took her time with it, though, and I found it relaxing. 

“Thank you for washing my dress,” she commented as she worked. 

“That's no problem, I appreciate you lending it to me.”

“I suppose you're just lucky it fit. Who steals the clothes off someone's back?” She sighed. 

“I stole the clothes I'm wearing,” I said sheepishly. 

“You stole a suitcase, that's different,” she chuckled, and I found her reasoning amusing. 

“I'm surprised at how much fun that was. I don't rob people very often, but this lady was poison. She was yelling at this poor boy so loud, he must've been mortified,” I said. Mary-Beth set the brush aside and started dividing my hair. She took some pieces from one side of my parting at the top and began braiding, pulling in extra pieces as she went. 

“Bless him.” 

“I suppose it must've riled John up to see that, with him being a father,” I commented and she hummed in acknowledgement.

“Perhaps. He ain't the most attentive father, Abigail gets so upset with him. But I know he loves that boy, he just don't know how to show it.”

“I guess maybe it's hard, with this way of life," I thought aloud.

I felt her pulling the hair taut as she moved down and around the side of my head towards the nape of my neck, by then she'd incorporated all of my hair into the braid and was working towards the ends. 

“The men are always so busy,” she agreed. "Family time don't come easy."

“Who you trying to impress, hmm?” Karen came over to us, shooting me a teasing grin. Tilly was at her side and they were carrying four bottles of beer between them. Karen handed one to me and Tilly put one down by Mary-Beth. 

“Nobody,” I laughed. “Mary-Beth offered, since we're apparently having a party.”

“That's right, thought we'd bring you two some booze since you're over here being all quiet," Karen explained. Tilly sat down opposite me, leaning back on her hand while taking a drink.

“Thank you,” I said, opening up the bottle and taking a sip as carefully as I could without moving my head. 

“Your new clothes look nice, that case was full of good stuff then?” Tilly grinned, reaching out to feel the fabric of my skirt briefly.

“It was, there was plenty of stuff in there worth some money,” I told her. “John deserves the credit though, he picked it up while I distracted the lady.” 

“Yeah, you and John looked real pleased when you got back,” Karen snickered, sitting down on the blanket beside me. “You ain't gonna be the last nail in the coffin, are ya’?”

“What coffin?” I questioned. 

“Him and Abigail. They've been at each other's throats since he got back, timing's just right for an affair.”

“Gosh, no, it ain't like that!” I hissed, eyes going wide.

“You sure? You was mighty cozy on that horse,” she teased me, leaning in close.

“So I didn't fall off! I was carrying the case,” I defended myself, feeling so hot in the face that I thought I might pass out. Karen laughed, shaking her head. 

“Leave her alone Karen, she clearly doesn't see John in that way,” Mary-Beth spoke up, finishing up my braid and beginning to pin it up in a spiral at the back of my head.

“Thank you,” I breathed. 

“Arthur, on the other hand…” she added, and I could hear the smirk in her voice. My mouth opened but I didn't know what to say. Surrounded by giggling girls was not a position I'd ever been in before, was I supposed to go along with it?

“Come on, you two, you're ones to talk. Karen seemed all too pleased to see Sean, and Mary-Beth; you've been chatting with that O'Driscoll boy a lot lately,” Tilly interrupted the laughter, cocking a brow. I wanted to hug her for deflecting the attention from me. 

“Kieran's not an O'Driscoll,” Mary-Beth said defensively. “I'm just teaching him how to read.”

“What, with your romance novels?” Tilly smirked. 

Mary-Beth tutted and sighed. “Karen's gone awfully quiet.”

“So's she!” Karen gestured to me with her beer bottle. “I saw her, wrist deep in a rabbit with Arthur. And they say romance is dead!”

“Oh, please. We went hunting together and that was that. Forget about what I think of him, I doubt Arthur would even look at me that way in a million years, anyway,” I rolled my eyes.

“What makes you say that?” Tilly asked.

“I've been here all of five minutes for one thing, and I ain't ever had a… I ain't ever been romantically involved. So even if I was interested, he wouldn't be,” I reasoned, voice petering off in embarrassment. Mary-Beth was finished with my hair and asked me to turn to her so she could check the front.

“I don't know, lookin’ at you now I think any man might give it a shot," she told me, finger tapping under my chin playfully.

“With my black eyes?” I snorted. 

“They're a pretty shade of lilac, now,” she giggled. I turned away and shook my head with a laugh. 

“Well, I'll ask you all to hush up about Arthur. He's a nice gentleman but I'm here to work and contribute, nothing else,” I said firmly, sipping my beer. Karen gave Mary-Beth a comical look over the top of my head, which I ignored. 

“If you insist,” Mary-Beth said, putting her hands on my shoulders. “What do we think, girls? Did I do a good job?”

“Sure! You look all fancy now, in that blouse too,” Karen nodded. “Very pretty.”

“You look lovely,” Tilly agreed.

“Thanks girls, and thanks Mary-Beth for doing it, it's been a while since my hair looked nice.”

“You're welcome,” she bowed her head once before picking up her beer and opening it, taking a swig. 

“We gonna stay over here all night or are we gonna go and join the boys?” Karen asked, and when nobody argued she pushed herself to her feet. “Come on, then!”

-

Three beers later I was loosening up, feeling a little more relaxed in my surroundings. A portion of the group were sitting around the fire, Javier was cross-legged strumming his guitar, Uncle was telling some story to Hosea, Pearson was sitting against a log with his head laid back, hand holding a beer resting on his stomach. I was sat opposite Javier, Charles by my side. 

“Thank you for letting me borrow your horse and bow, that was very kind of you,” I was saying. 

“That's okay. Arthur said you did well, got some clean kills,” Charles said, sipping his beer.

“I like to think so,” I said quietly, looking into the spitting flames of the fire. “Damn near kills me inside when I merely wound an animal.”

“Me too,” he looked at me, nodding. “How'd you learn to hunt?”

“I taught myself, I had to. Took me a while to get any good of course, I used to practice out in the woods, aiming at trees, then branches, then individual leaves. I was over near Rhodes for a while, a family there used to pay me to shoot the rats in their stables, that helped a lot.”

“Maybe you and I will get a chance to go hunting together, once we get you some kit of your own,” he suggested and I smiled. 

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“If I get some time, I'll make you a bow," he offered, something completely unexpected to me and so nice it touched me.

“Seriously?” I raised my brows.

“Sure. I enjoy making things, just sitting down and using my hands, it relaxes me,” he told me. I liked Charles. I found him to have a very grounding, soothing presence. 

“Thank you, Charles. Is there anything I can do for you in return?” I asked, and he considered for a few moments before looking at me. 

“Actually, there is. If you come across any oleander, would you bring some to me? It's poisonous, I use it to make poison arrows, and I ran out recently. I just haven't had time to go out and gather more.”

“Of course, I know what that is. My pa used to warn me about it every time we saw some when I was a kid,” I smiled. “I'll keep an eye out.” 

“Thank you,” he nodded.

“Now this is the little lady who's name I keep hearing whispered 'round camp,” the sudden change in volume and energy jolted me as Sean stepped over the log I was sitting on, planting himself down beside me. “You ain't come and said hello, yet. Though I can't blame ya’, s'pose you don't wanna come off too keen.”

“Hi,” was all I could muster, momentarily stunned.

“Sean,” he held his hand out to me. “I already know your name, I heard a lot about you.”

“You did?” My eyes widened and I was struck with something cold. 

_What were people saying about me?_

I put my hand in his and he lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back of it.

“Don't you worry, love. All good,” he smirked.

“Oh, good,” I laughed in relief. I flushed under his attention, he had a certain kind of charm that was nice but… intimidating. His accent was certainly very nice.

“That's a nice pair of shiners you got there, really brings out your eyes,” he laughed, I laughed too but it was far less at ease than his.

“You should've seen me the other day. They really did bring them out; to here,” I whittled on, holding my hands out a ways from my face to illustrate the swelling. 

“Ahh you're alright. You look lovely; very good hair,” he nodded.

“Thanks,” I said, turning my face from him and hoping he'd think my blush was from the hot fire. I could see how Karen had been charmed by him.

“Anyway, 's good to meet you but I got people to see and beer to drink,” he patted my knee before rising to his feet again. “You ever need anything, you know where to find me.”

I smiled at him and watched him leave before turning back to Charles who seemed amused. I stared blankly at him and he chuckled. 

“You should watch out for him, I haven't been here all that long but I've seen how that guy works. He could get a nun into bed with enough motivation,” he warned and I hissed a surprised sort of laugh.

“Thanks for the heads up,” I said. 

“He's almost as bad as Javier,” Charles raised his voice for that one. Javier stopped strumming and looked up. 

“What'chu say about me, Smith?” He questioned, empty threats in his tone.

“Nothing,” Charles said nonchalantly, raising his beer bottle to his smirking lips. 

“Don't make me hurt you in front of the lady,” he antagonised him, though he was smirking and I could tell it was with a light heart. 

I snorted and sipped my own beer, movement catching the corner of my eye. Arthur was strolling towards the edge of camp, near the drop. His head was tilted towards the letter he was reading, it must've been the letter John had picked up. He looked pensive as he leaned up against a tree. I looked away, feeling rude watching him. 

“Who wants to sing a song?” Uncle asked with infectious enthusiasm. 

“I know just the one for you, old man,” Javier teased him, and began strumming a tune. Uncle chuckled and began to sing, soon joined by Hosea and Pearson. Charles didn't join in, choosing to sit and listen with a smirk on his face.

_“O Mollie, O Mollie, it's for your sake alone;_  
That I leave my old parents, my house and my home;  
My love for you, it has caused me to roam;  
I'm a rabble rouser and Dixie's my home.” 

I couldn't say I recognised the song so I kept quiet, but it was nice to see them all singing and having a good time together, sitting around a campfire singing songs certainly had a way of building a sense of community. I swayed from side to side with the tune.

_“Jack o' diamonds, Jack o' diamonds;_  
I know you of old;  
You rob my poor pockets;  
Of silver and gold; 

_“O Whiskey, you villain;_  
You've been my downfall;  
You've kicked me, you've cuffed me;  
And cause me to brawl.” 

A fourth voice appeared at my side, quiet and low but stood out with its rumbling pitch. It was Arthur, coming to join us with a beer replacing the letter in his hand. He sat down next to me and gave me a little smile as he joined in with the song.

_“My foot's in a stirrup, my bridle's in my hand;_  
I'm leavin' sweet Mollie, the fairest in the land.  
Her parents don't like me, they say I'm too poor;  
They say I'm unworthy to enter her door.” 

_“Rye whiskey, rye whiskey;_  
Rye whiskey I cry;  
If I don't get rye whiskey;  
I surely will die. 

_“O baby, O baby, I've told you before;_  
Do make me a pallet, I'll lie on the floor.  
I've rambled and trambled this wide world round;  
Raisin' hell with the gang, that's where I am bound; 

_“It's with these gunslingers, dear Mollie, I'll roam;_  
I'm a rabble rouser and Dixie's my home.  
If the ocean were whiskey, and I were a duck–” 

“Quack quack,” Arthur added on, making me snicker. 

_“I'd dive to the bottom and get one sweet sup;_

_But the ocean ain't whiskey, and I ain't no duck;_  
So I'll play Jack o' diamonds and then we'll get drunk.  
O baby, O baby, I've told you before;  
Do make me a pallet, I'll lie on the floor.” 

The gentlemen all cheered when Javier did a little flourish on the guitar to finish off the chords. Arthur smirked and sipped his beer, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. 

“That was impressive! We never sung songs like this in my family, I never heard that one. But I do know all the words to _To God Be The Glory_.” I snorted. 

“We'll get you learnin’ our songs soon enough. Ain't nothing like a good song,” Uncle said, then laid back with a contented sigh. Javier went back to the gentle chords he'd been playing before and a couple of the others dispersed, leaving just those two and Arthur and I sitting around the fire.


	8. Daisy Chains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say about this one besides some quiet little conversation around the campfire! I hope you guys are still enjoying this :)

All was quiet for a while around the campfire, though we could hear laughter and chit chat from the other side of the camp. I looked at Arthur who was away with the fairies, staring at the fire, his beer bottle pressed to his bottom lip, whistling quietly with his breath. 

“You okay, Arthur?” I asked and he blinked, snapping out of it and looking at me. 

“Oh I'm fine, jus’ lost in thought,” he told me, eyes ghosting over me, taking in my appearance. “You look real nice, with the new clothes and the hair, I saw Mary-Beth did that for you.”

“Thanks,” I grinned. “She's good with hair, ain't she? Said maybe she'd teach me sometime.”

“That's nice of her. I'm glad you're getting along well with the others.”

“Yeah, you folk have all been very kind, I hope I can make it up somehow,” I said. He nodded, keeping his eyes on me for a long while before letting out a breath. 

“Can I ask you something?” He said, his voice going up a bit with curiosity. 

“Sure.”

“That letter… the one you and John picked up for me today. That was from someone that, uhh, that meant a lot to me, at one point. Still does, I suppose. But I ain't seen them in so long I was starting to feel okay with that, about them being all a part of my past,” he explained to me, his brow creased a little. 

“But now they wanna see me again, and I ain't sure that's a good idea,” he continued, glancing away. “You ever loved somebody? I mean that ain't your kin.”

“Me?” I balked, not being prepared for such a question. “No, I uh, can't say I have.”

“No, I suppose you're too young for that,” he mumbled. 

“I wouldn't say it's that. My family kept to ourselves, I never got the chance to meet anyone and become familiar enough to fall in love. Then of course, it's been the last thing on my mind in more recent years,” I said, frowning to myself. I wasn't sure Arthur really knew how old I was. “But anyway, is that all you wanted to ask me?”

“I guess I was just gonna ask you what you'd do," he met my eyes again.

“Would I go and meet this person?” I wondered aloud, and Arthur nodded. “I'm guessing you're afraid of being hurt, that's understandable. I'm not the best at advice but, I think it depends. Do you care about them enough to risk it?”

“I think I do. I feel maybe I owe it to her, not to ignore her letter. But I just don't… I don't wanna get sucked into anything, 'cause that's when I turn into a fool.”

“Maybe you should go then, even if it's just to tell her what you just told me; that you don't think keeping in contact like this is a good idea,” I suggested. Arthur nodded and sat quietly in thought for a while. 

The whole time I'd been speaking to him my heart had been in my mouth. I didn't know anything about his situation and I could only do my best in advising him, I just didn't want him to get hurt over something I'd suggested. But he was a grown man at the end of the day, he could make his own choices. 

“How about you come with me?”

“What?” My eyes widened. 

“I think if I had someone there, I might be able to keep my head. I have a tendency to drop everything for this person and I know I can't do that right now, not with all that's happened to the gang recently.”

“I understand, but me? Why me? Wouldn't that look bad?”

“I ain't about to bring one of the boys with me, they'd give me no end of crap! Bunch o’ children. Not only that, everyone here has some sort of opinion on her. But you ain't met Mary before, you ain't got any ideas about her and you won't be whispering in my ear, tellin’ me what you think of her. That's why I asked you about this in the first place.”

“Alright. I guess I see your point. I'm just thinking of how it's gonna look if you turn up with some other woman she ain't met before on the back of your horse,” I said awkwardly, averting my gaze. I could feel Arthur's eyes on me as he considered my words. In the end he sat forward, adjusting his hat and taking a swig of beer.

“If she makes assumptions then maybe that wouldn't be so bad,” he admitted quietly. “Might even make it easier.” 

I opened my mouth, but didn't know what to say, so I closed it again and fidgeted in my seat. 

“That is of course, if you can stand for anyone to think you've settled for someone like me,” he added.

“ _Settled_?” I spat with a little too much disbelief. I reined myself in. “I'm sorry, Arthur. You shouldn't think that of yourself, settling ain't what someone would do for you. You're a fine man.”

“Ya’ barely know me,” he chuckled. 

“What I do know is all good; you’re a gentleman. You're kind, polite, helpful, not to mention extremely handsome,” I said without thinking, stopping abruptly and drinking some beer so that I had a reason to shut up. My thoughts turned back to the conversation I had with the girls earlier that evening and I felt incredibly embarrassed. If they'd heard _that_ …

A glance from the corner of my eye showed Arthur with his head tilted down, unmistakable amusement on his face; badly hidden. I cleared my throat and made to stand up.

“Excuse me,” I mumbled, getting out of there as quickly as I could. 

He was laughing at me. What a fool I'd been to say something like that – again, and mostly sober! – no wonder he found it funny, coming from me. Just a silly girl too young to have ever loved, can't even make herself look pretty; has to ask someone else to do it for her, always getting saved by men because she can't look after herself. Of course he didn't want to hear that from me.

I walked to the edge of camp and sat myself down on the cliff, feet hanging down off the edge. I took a breath and looked out over the view; it was dark now, just the moon providing a little light. I thought back to the first night I'd meet Arthur, and the fact that he'd been in my dreams. He'd held me, kissed me, made me a woman, made me feel desirable and loved. It'd all been a figment of my imagination, my intimacy starved subconscious, and as I thought about it I felt ashamed. Who was I to think of him in such a way, even if it was beyond my control in my dreams? 

And here we were, crossing paths again; and I was still acting just as foolish as I had that night. How humiliating. 

I finished my beer, the last one of the night; I'd already loosened up more than enough. I heard footsteps in the grass behind me, but didn't look back, half hoping that whoever it was would just leave me alone. I'd been surrounded by far too many people and I felt exhausted from it. 

“You should be careful, what if you fall off the edge?” The voice that came was the absolute last I expected to hear. I turned around and saw little Jack standing there with a half eaten chocolate bar in his hand. 

I scooted back, bringing my legs up and sitting further away from the edge. 

“Thanks, Jack. You're right,” I smiled at him and he came closer to me, staying further back from the edge than I was. 

“Mama warned me about going too close,” he told me. 

“Well she's a clever woman, you should listen to her,” I nodded. He bit into his chocolate and was quiet for a while as he ate. 

“Do your eyes hurt?” He asked after swallowing and I chuckled a little. 

“They did, but they aren't so bad anymore,” I said, then gestured to him. “Your daddy helped me after I got hurt, you know that?” 

Jack nodded, looking back over his shoulder towards camp. John was with Abigail, and though I couldn't hear them I could tell they were arguing.

“Hey,” I said, distracting him from his parents. “You ever made a daisy chain?” 

“Sure! I know how to make those,” he gave me a big smile and sat down, crossing his legs. I twisted around to face him, plucking a flower from the grass. 

“You wanna help me make one?” I asked. He nodded eagerly.

“Who's it for?” He asked. I thought for a moment, not really having anyone in mind, only suggesting it to stop him from seeing his parents fight.

“Mary-Beth, as a thank you for doing my hair tonight,” I decided, smiling at him as he gathered flowers from around the spot he sat in. 

I watched him as he made the chain, and my job became handing him the flowers one by one for him to link onto the rest. It was sweet, just watching him have fun and be creative, and I wondered what sort of games he played with no other kids around, and without even a fixed home.

“Do you like it here, Jack?” I asked him, handing him another flower.

“Sure. It's okay, sometimes I miss the old place, though,” he shrugged, as unfazed as any kid could be, his world was small and I suspected as long as he had his parents and the other familiar faces around him, he'd be okay. “Do you like it here?” He asked. 

His question took me by surprise. He was just a child, I was under no pressure to give him a well thought-out answer, a simple yes would've satisfied him. But it made me think. I was on the fence about it, I liked the security I felt when I was here but I couldn't fight the feeling of not quite belonging, of intruding and outstaying my welcome. It was why I was trying to be as helpful as possible.

“Sure, you folk are all very kind,” I told him in the end. “I want to make sure I thank you all properly.”

“You need me to help make more daisy chains?” He asked and I laughed, his purity endearing. 

“No, you're alright. You're doing a great job with this one, I couldn't possibly expect you to do any more for me,” I assured him. He held up the completed daisy chain, grinning. “That looks beautiful, Jack.”

“Will Mary-Beth like it?” 

“I'm certain she will, shall we go give it to her?” I asked and he hopped up to his feet before I could blink. I stood up too, about to follow him back into camp when Abigail appeared in front of us. 

“There you are, Jack. It's bedtime, come on,” she waved him over. 

“We made this for Mary-Beth!” He ran over to her, showing her the chain.

“Well that's lovely, you can give it to her in the morning, say goodnight to your new friend,” she gestured to me and placed a hand on his shoulder, turning him to face me.

“You can give it to her,” he said to me, offering me the daisy chain. I smiled and took it from him.

“Thanks for your help, Jack.” 

“You're welcome, it was fun! Goodnight,” he said letting his mother guide him away from me. Abigail addressed me with a polite nod, but she didn't return the smile I gave her. My stomach knotted. If Karen had gotten ideas about John and I, I dreaded to think what Abigail thought. 

I let out a quiet groan, looking down at the daisy chain in my hand. I wanted to leave, I didn't want to stay any longer and cause any problems, I didn't want to make myself look any sillier in front of Arthur, I didn't want to take up any more of the camps resources. If I could, I'd have walked right out of camp there and then, but I knew that it'd be suicide going out there without any weapons, food, or shelter. I was trapped. 

I swallowed thickly and walked back into camp, sitting down in the spot I'd been sleeping the last few nights next to Mary-Beth. Her book was sitting there and I slipped the daisy chain under the front cover and left it there, not feeling like finding her and handing it over. I curled up on my side and tried to sleep. 

It was odd. Despite the camp being alive with noise from the party, I still slept more soundly than I ever did out there in my tent alone.


	9. We Loved Once And True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagging along with Arty so he can meet Mary, I feel like this one’s pretty short.

I woke up very early, everyone else was still fast asleep, probably suffering from the night of heavy drinking that I'd slept through. I gingerly sat up and scooted out from my spot between Mary-Beth and Karen, standing up and stretching. I figured I'd brew the coffee since I had no idea when Pearson would be able to rise. I set to work, moving on autopilot with my freshly woken mind blank and calm. As I waited for the coffee to be ready I started feeling more alert, remembering the mood I'd been in when I went to bed.

Of course, things always seemed a little better after a night's sleep, but I still felt nauseated at the memory of seeing Abigail's face. She didn't seem angry, but her face had been worryingly indifferent, like she was hiding her true feelings. I couldn't escape the worry that she hated me.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table near Pearson's station. I'd known right from the start that I couldn't stay long at the camp. I'd been alone for far too long and integrating into large group like this one wasn't a good idea; all it'd do is leave me dependant and vulnerable, even more vulnerable than when I was alone. I just had to figure out a way to get myself sorted, build up my inventory again. I needed weapons, I needed a tent and I needed my horse. As soon as I had those things, I'd bid these fine people farewell and move on from the whole thing, taking a lesson from it.

“'Morning. You're up early,” I was startled by the voice coming up behind me. “Relax, you're real jumpy.” 

Arthur's hair was a little messy and he was just wearing his pants over the top of his union suit. He was missing his shirt but his gun belt was hanging from his hips already, and that was something that caught my attention. 

“I’m sorry, it's just so quiet out here. I uh, I turned in early,” I said, turning back around and staring at my coffee. I heard him get a cupful for himself and tensed up when he sat down in the seat opposite me. 

“Not a lover of parties?” He asked. I shrugged my shoulders and nonchalantly patted the plaits still pinned to my head; I'd slept with my hair still up and it probably looked a state. 

“I didn't mind it. I was just tired,” I told him. Tired, and sick of thinking. 

“I'm sorry if we kept you up,” he said, and I saw him place a little box of biscuits on the table, opening them up. He took one, then pushed them towards me. With a grateful nod, I took one for myself.

“No, you didn't. It was actually pretty easy to fall asleep, I guess because here I don't have to worry about waking up to some undesirable standing over me; whether that be human or animal,” I admitted, braving a peek at him. His hair looked neater, and I thought he must've smoothed it out when I wasn't looking. 

Suddenly I felt even more self-conscious about my own appearance. I bit into my biscuit and tried to swallow those thoughts along with it.

“That's right. You'll be safe here, we all look out for each other,” he smiled at me and I couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked, still a little sleepy, his voice sounding deeper than usual, a bit of his firm chest exposed between the buttons of his union suit. I sighed quietly and looked away.

“How did you sleep?” I asked, stroking my finger up and down the side of my cup. The metal was dented and I traced the dip absentmindedly.

“Not well, 's why I'm up. I was planning on going to see Mary, and I've been working myself up over it. It's been a long time…” he breathed, eyes settling on my finger. I stopped moving it.

“I wish I had something better to say than; you'll be fine. You will be, but I know how empty those words can seem,” I said softly and he nodded in appreciation. 

“Thank you," he said. "Have you thought about if you're coming with me?” 

I bit my bottom lip, staring at his hands; his first and middle finger were quickly drumming against the side of his cup one after another, over and over.

“I'll come, if you'd like me to. If it'd bring you a little comfort,” I looked to his eyes to see him exhale in relief.

“Like I said, having someone with me's likely to stop me from going off, gallivanting…” he trailed off, frowning to himself. “I need to keep my feet on the ground, right now. For Dutch and everyone else.”

“Well then I'd better join you,” I nodded, finishing my biscuit. 

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, looking me in the eye. His hand reached across the table a bit, stopping short of my arm when I looked away far too quickly and unnaturally; I could feel heat rising to my face. 

_Why did he have to be so dang attractive, and why couldn't I just act normal?_

-

I changed into my new pants, tucking my blouse into them and fastening my belt tight to hug them to my waist. I also stole a look at myself in Molly's hand mirror and to my relief, my hair didn't actually look too bad after sleeping on it. It'd been done tight and proper, and so it'd kept its shape with just a few fly-aways that I managed to smooth down with my hand and a splash of water. 

I met with Arthur again near his horse, which was saddled and ready to go. He mounted it, speaking softly to it and patting its neck. Seeing someone being affectionate with their horse always brought a smile to my face, and always made me miss Rayna. 

“You ready? You can ride up here with me,” he patted the spot behind him and I gulped as I stepped forwards. With no excuse to ride sidesaddle, I climbed up and sat forward behind him, taking his hand for support. His hand was hot and his palm felt calloused, it was strong and held mine tightly, he wasn't shy about it. 

I felt something real strong pumping through my veins as I settled into place behind him, my thighs up against his hips, my chest against his back. I worried he could feel my heart beating with our proximity, and with my shaky hands I held onto his waist, trying my damnedest to ignore the rush that was making me feel like I'd just been hooked up to a lightning rod. Arthur seemed as cool as ever, tugging on the reins to turn his horse as he started trotting out of camp. 

We were gone before anyone else had woken up, and for that I was grateful. Nobody could see my face, which was surely deep red. I realised I blushed so much around Arthur, he must've noticed by then, I could only hope he just thought it was my regular complexion. Though it might as well be, with how often it happened…

“We're heading towards Valentine. She said she was stopping in a house over there,” he explained as we rode. As we picked up the pace, I had to hold on tighter to him. “I'll just go in and speak with her and if you'd just wait on the horse for me, I'd appreciate it. Jet's a good boy, he'll look after you,” he added, patting his horse again. 

“Alright, I hope everything goes well with you two,” I told him. I was sincere but it sounded so empty and dull the way I said it. He thanked me anyway. 

“Afterwards I'll buy us breakfast as a thank you.”

“You don't have to do that. All I'm doing is sitting on your horse,” I laughed. 

“I'm starving and you must be too, we're getting breakfast,” he told me with finality that I didn't argue with. “And I appreciate you doing this, it might seem like a small thing to you, but,” he didn't finish his sentence and I felt his chest expand with a large breath. 

We came up to a house and Arthur slowed down, looking around. 

“I think this is the place,” he mumbled, mainly to himself. He stopped the horse by the fence that surrounded the property and got down, having to lean back into me so he could swing his leg over. He felt so solid against me, like such a _man_ , and I found myself picturing what he'd look like under that union suit I saw him in earlier. 

_Gosh_. I needed to calm down and start showing the man some respect. 

“I don't plan on being long, there's a rifle on my horse if you see me doing something stupid,” he looked sheepish and adjusted his hat on his head. 

I chuckled. “Like what?” 

“Like getting too close,” he muttered, turning and half jogging up to the house. 

I watched him as he knocked on the door, and my hand flinched for the rifle he'd mentioned when I saw him take a step back, raising his hands. There was a woman pointing a gun at him. 

_That's Mary?!_

I didn't know what I should do, but luckily it seemed like Arthur had things under control, and a moment later the woman went back inside. It was a few seconds before someone else came out. 

_Oh, that's Mary._

I squinted as I tried to get a good look at her, completely forgetting my manners in favour of curiosity. My mouth went dry when I noticed just how beautiful she was; like unreal, perfect beauty. No wonder Arthur was so nervous to see her again, and I wasn't surprised that someone like her would've gone for someone like him. They certainly made an attractive couple. 

I jumped when Mary's eyes met mine, and I sat back a little, turning my head away so it didn't look like I was seconds away from getting the binoculars out. She said something and Arthur looked over his shoulder at me. I felt a little sick, honestly, not knowing what they were saying. Was he telling her the truth? That I was just some poor girl tagging along with the gang after her life was stolen from under her? Or was he misleading her, choosing his words carefully so she could draw her own conclusions? He did say that it might make things easier if she thought he'd moved on. I honestly didn't know which I'd prefer, though I did wonder if she'd believe that Arthur and I were anything more than acquaintances. I'd be one heck of a downgrade, that's for sure. 

She really was beautiful, and I was looking at her from a distance. I shuddered to think how she looked up close, I'd probably never look in a mirror again. I looked away from them, giving them their privacy, instead opting to play with Jet's mane. I ran my fingers through it, gently undoing any tangles, then separated out three strands. I knew very little about braiding, just that there were three strands involved, but every time I'd watched my mother do it I'd quickly lost track of what she did with them. 

I tried twisting the three strands together in various ways; weaving one strand between the other two, wrapping the outside strands around the middle strand one by one, weaving the outside strands _under_ the middle strand one by one- oh. Wait, that didn't look too bad! I kept at it, repeating the process slowly but surely down to the end of Jet's mane. By the time I was finished I had an uneven, wiggly looking, messy braid. But it was the first braid I'd ever managed! I smiled to myself, and thought about telling Mary-Beth when we got back. I could show her and ask if I'd done it correctly. 

The braid had killed some time and when I looked back up at Arthur, he was standing a little distance away from Mary on the porch. His face looked conflicted and Mary was wringing her hands together. Eventually Arthur shook his head, said a few parting words, before stepping down from the porch and heading back towards me. I scooted backwards, giving him enough room to mount up in front of me. Arthur wordlessly got on, the only sound he made being his clicking at the horse to get it moving. I looked back at Mary as we rode away; she was standing with her arms crossed, watching us leave.


	10. A Hearty Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the saloon and some deep conversations.

Arthur rode us straight into town towards the saloon; I hadn't been in there for a while. The last time I had, it'd been the night my horse got stolen. I wondered if by chance we would see the bastard who took her, but it wasn't likely. Arthur tethered up the horse and climbed down, offering his hand to me; I took it as I hopped down, swooning inside at the act. 

We'd been silent for a long while and I was beginning to feel awkward. I felt like I should ask him if he was okay, but at the same time it'd been so long since we said anything that it felt out of the blue, like I'd left it too long. Or maybe he didn't want to speak about it. Or maybe I was over thinking things and I should just ask him, for Christ's sake. 

“How're you doing?” I asked as we entered the saloon. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye as he settled into a seat at the bar. I took the one next to him. 

“Just fine,” he told me, but his tone was a little monotonous and disappointed. “I don't know about you, but I fancy a drink.”

“This early?” 

“Sure. Whiskey, please,” he said to the barman before looking at me expectantly. “You joining me?” 

“Um, alright. I'll have the same,” I nodded. 

“What food you got?” Arthur asked the man behind the bar.

“We have oatmeal, at this time in the morning,” he explained.

“That'll do me jus’ fine. That alright with you?” He asked me, and I nodded again. Arthur put some money on the bar and the barman poured our drinks before turning away to get our food. 

“Whiskey and oatmeal. Sure is a hearty breakfast,” I said with a quiet laugh as he downed his drink. Arthur didn't respond, rolling the empty glass between his thumb and forefinger, deep in thought. The barman placed our food in front of us, and I thanked him.

I sipped at my whiskey rather than downing it in one, then tucked into the oatmeal. 

“Once again I've been disillusioned,” Arthur said quietly. With my mouth full of food I couldn't question him, but I didn't need to. “You know, I thought maybe she was reaching out to me because she cared for me. Maybe somewhere deep inside I had a little hope that we might…” he trailed off, then placed some more money under his glass, sliding it over to the barman for a refill.

“I know it's silly. She and I would never work, her life is so different from mine. But, there was always _hope_ ,” he continued, downing a second shot, sucking in air through his teeth at the burn.

“I'm sorry, Arthur,” was all I could say. What else was there?

“She only wanted my help. I suspect she asked me because she knows I always fawn over her every need like a fool. And I probably would've done this time, if you weren't there,” he looked up at me. “But she's gonna have to find someone else.”

"A lady like her, I'm sure it wouldn't be too hard," I said quietly and he frowned a little. 

"What do you mean by that?"

"I don't need to tell you she's beautiful," I explained. Arthur kept his eyes on mine for a little while before they flitted away, and he looked forward at nothing in particular.

"That she is," he agreed. "And she's a good woman. She's a whole package, she just… her family don't like me. She always wanted to change me, but asking me to change is asking me to abandon everything I've ever cared about. The only thing that's real to me, the men who raised me," he swung an arm back in a vague gesture towards the camp. 

I stared at him as he spoke, noticing a certain kind of flame appearing in his eyes.

"And I just can't do that. Not for her, not anybody. It's a shame, is all," he looked down at the oatmeal and with a sigh he picked up his spoon. 

"Loyalty is very important to you, isn't it?" 

"Of course it is. If you ain't loyal to something, what do you even work towards?" He glanced at me. It made me think; what was I loyal to? I'd been left with no person to be loyal to. 

"Survival," I offered. He considered my response as he chewed on his breakfast. He swallowed before speaking.

"If you're just trying to survive, then I guess that's called being loyal to yourself."

"I suppose you could look at it like that," I nodded.

"I guess what it all comes down to is figuring out what's most important to you," he said as I finished off my glass of whiskey. He flagged down the bartender to bring us two more before continuing. "For me that's the gang. What is it for you?"

"Right now it's getting my life together, finding me a tent and some weapons."

"That's interesting. I got a tent packed away on my horse – plenty of weapons too – what stopped you from just riding off into the sunset when I was talking to Mary?"

"I make a point of not screwing over the people who help me. You and the rest of the gang have kept me alive all week, you've shown me such kindness. I'd've been up shit creek without John's help. I'm not a saint but I ain't one to bite the hand that feeds me."

Arthur nodded slowly as he listened to my answer, eyes narrowed just slightly in consideration.

"That, and I don't doubt your ability to hunt me down and gut me if I did," I added, watching Arthur's face shift into amusement. "Lone wolves don't last long by making a bunch'a enemies."

"Lone wolves don't last long full stop, if ya' ask Dutch," Arthur said through his chuckles.

"Well, I ain't asking him."

Arthur stopped laughing and looked at me, seriously. "You're really hell bent on getting out of here, back on your own two feet, huh?"

"I am,” I answered without leaving a pause between us. Arthur took in my straight faced expression for a while then gestured to the fresh shot in front of me. 

"Get that down you," he said, picking up his own. We necked them simultaneously. 

-

I wasn't much of a daytime drinker, this was the first time I'd ever really drank before evening rolled around. Heck, the times I drank were few and far between regardless of what time of day it was. But Arthur kept on buying us drinks one after the other as he spoke about his life, and we were getting a little tipsy.

He told me about Dutch and Hosea and how they'd brought him up, practically like a son of their own. He told me about how the others had joined, how Charles was the newest after Sadie, after me. I'd been surprised when he'd counted me, as if I was a part of the group. It was odd being thought of like that, actually considered being part of a whole, or thought of at all, really. It made me feel something unfamiliar but not by any means unpleasant. I didn't dwell on it.

I'd stopped him from ordering another shot, reminding him that we still had to get ourselves back to camp, and pried him away from the bar. We were sitting side by side outside the saloon on the deck, legs dangling off the edge near where Jet was hitched. He'd asked me about my life, and I'd told him everything, answering all his questions, letting go of all of my past like word vomit. 

"My ma and pa died years ago. We all caught the flu, was a time where I thought we were all gonna die," I was saying, leaning back on my elbows and getting dirt on my blouse carelessly. Arthur was watching me over his shoulder, smoking a cigarette. "We all just got worse and worse, but me and my brother pulled through. Our folks were older and weaker, so," I trailed off with a soft shrug of my shoulders. I only felt a little emotional, I'd come to terms with it a long time ago.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said. 

"Yeah, well, folks die. Everyone's lost someone."

"You're allowed to be sad about it," he twisted his upper body to better face me, but turned his head to exhale smoke so he wasn't puffing in my face. 

"Sometimes I am," I nodded. "Wouldn't be human otherwise, but life goes on. One day it'll be me in the ground, and I'd rather spend my time focusing on what's happening now than what's in the past."

"That's wise," he said. "Guess that's part of why I didn't wanna get wrapped up with Mary again. That's all in the past." 

"You'll find someone who's right for you, there's a person for everyone. 'Course I'm just regurgitating what my mama told me and I never used to listen, so I wouldn't blame you if you wanted to tell me to shut it," I snorted.

"You don't believe you'll find someone?" He questioned and I sighed, chewing on my lip for a while.

"I don't know. If it happens, it happens. I ain't never looked for anyone, maybe if I put in the effort I would, but I suppose I haven't really thought much about romance before," I admitted and he nodded in understanding. "Nobody's ever approached me in that way, at least not for anything serious. Most I've had is filthy propositions from drunk men in saloons with rings already on their fingers."

"And what do you do when that happens?" He asked me, cocking a brow. 

"Usually I rob 'em," I smirked, making him laugh and shake his head.

"I don't blame you," he said, flicking his spent cigarette into the mud. He leaned back on his elbows too, putting us close together. I felt warm and my heart sped up. "You can surely handle yourself, out there. But I gotta understand why you're so set on being alone anyway. Ain't you enjoying being surrounded by folk who have your back?" 

"Of course I am. I like being where I am for the most part, I feel safer, for sure. But I just…" I sucked in air through my teeth as I struggled to find reasoning. Abigail and John sat in the forefront of my mind, and right at the tip of my tongue. 

"Go on," he nudged me and I met his eyes, his face was only a few inches from mine but neither of us moved away.

"I don't much like how I've been coming across," I confessed to him. 

Arthur frowned, looking adorably confused; exacerbated by his drunkenness. 

“I just keep showing myself up. I mean, first of all I turn up in the middle of the night, lookin’ a state and clinging onto some feller who's just saved my hide. Karen already thought I was pathetic then, always needing saving," I started, feeling it all welling up inside me, and I was pulling the cork.

“There's no shame in needing saving once in a while. I've been saved plenty of times, Dutch and Hosea; they saved me," he pointed out, and while that was true it by no means made me feel better.

“But then I seemed to make myself look even worse, and you're gonna think this is silly…"

"Try me."

"Did it look like I was throwing myself at John?"

 _"John?"_ He blurted out, a disbelieving laugh bursting from his chest. I averted my eyes and frowned.

"Karen thought he and I were gonna have an affair, that's what she said, no doubt Abigail thinks that too. I reckon she hates me.”

“An affair? What on earth are you-”

“I ain't like that. I told you I ain't ever loved no one and that was true. I ain't felt anything close. I never meant for it to look that way, I like John but I ain't like that. But I'm here five minutes and I've somehow got people thinking I'm some sorta hussy or homewrecker," I sat upright, and Arthur moved with me. 

“You'd be wise taking anything Karen says with a pinch of salt. She likes stirring things up, I reckon.”

“And then of course there's you," I turned and looked at him, unable to stop myself from spilling my guts. I said whatever was on my mind whenever I had a few drinks.

“Me?” He smacked a hand on his chest, a kind of dread in his eyes as he tried to think of what he'd done wrong.

“I acted like such an idiot that night in Blackwater, I never thought I'd see you again, but here we are. And I still keep acting like an idiot.” 

“Pssht, you worry far too much about stuff that don't matter. You ain't acting like anything, what the heck are you thinking?”

"I've already ran my mouth enough. Ignore me, and don't let me drink again," I grumbled, shaking my head.

"No, hang on, I don't get what you're saying," he frowned, taking my arm in his hand and urging me to look at him. "I don't think you're an idiot, as far as I can see you ain't done anything stupid." 

"You can't tell me you don't remember the sorts of things I said back in Blackwater," my face was positively burning up but the alcohol on my tongue pushed me further. "That was downright embarrassing. For both of us!" 

"So what, you got drunk and made some dirty jokes to a stranger, you think I ain't done worse?" He hadn't let go of my arm yet and it felt so impossibly hot. 

“I saw you laughing, last night, when I said you were handsome. And I don't blame you one bit, I know I'm the last person–”

“Hey, hold up. I never laughed… did I?” he frowned, deep creases forming between his brows, his pretty blue eyes flicking back and forth between my own.

“You wanted to, at least.”

“I don't know, maybe I did, but it ain't how you think it is," he let go of my arm and turned to face forward, running a hand over his stubble.

“It's okay, I understand. I'm not the prettiest, nor am I good for much. Me saying that sort of thing to you is just silly."

Arthur sighed and I swore I caught him roll his eyes. “If you must know, you flustered me.” 

_“Flustered.”_

“Yeah. You caught me by surprise, I didn't know what to say. You just came out and said it and there weren't nothing behind it but sincerity, there ain't been many women who've said that to me without offerin’ herself for a fee," he was getting fidgety, gesturing a lot with his hands as he spoke, continuing to face forwards without looking at me.

“I find that hard to believe.” 

“Believe what you will, but you shut me up good and proper," he finally glanced at me. Were his cheeks pink or was I just imagining things? "You're a pretty girl, regardless of what you say about yourself."

"You honestly think that?" I asked him, going still and feeling odd. 

"Well I ain't lying to make you feel better," he shrugged, then scooted forwards and pushed himself to his feet. He swayed a little. "You wanna head back, now? Susan's no doubt gonna give me an earful over this, but..." 

"Do we have to?"

Arthur thought about it for a moment. "No, I guess we don't." 

We remained quiet for a moment, me still sitting down, him standing in front of me. He held my eyes, though, refusing to look away and keeping my attention. 

"Ride with me," he said, gesturing with his head towards his horse before going over to it. He dragged his feet a little, walking with far less poise than he usually did. I wasn't looking forward to mounting a horse with so much whiskey in my stomach, but at least I wasn't wearing a frock.

I pushed myself up and made my way over to him, he was trying to get his foot in the stirrup. When he finally managed, he pulled himself aboard with as much grace as a one legged donkey and I couldn't help but snicker. He smirked at my amusement and held his hands out to me, I held onto one as I pulled myself up onto the horse. It took me a moment to figure out how to shift from laying across its back on my stomach, but Arthur pulled me into position with a drunken laugh. 

He reached for the reins, hands finding the braid in jet's main. He inspected it for a moment, puzzled. "You do this?" He asked.

"Oh, yeah. I'm sorry," I mumbled. 

"No, I ain't– that's cute," he let out a little laugh and I shifted so I was hiding my face behind him. He let the braid go without undoing it, though it was falling out a little on its own. "Anyway, my thinking is we go for a little ride, try and be sober by the time we head back. It's barely just past noon and we drank a little more than's good for us," he snorted.

"Who's faults that?" 

"Mine," he laughed, though my question was rhetorical.

"We ain't that drunk," I reassured him with a chuckle.

"Yeah but we ain't sober, neither," he snorted.

Arthur was leaning into me a little as we rode, and I was leaning into him. Pressed together, our bodies were a little more stable, and as much as it made me feel a little funny inside I certainly didn't mind the closeness. Arthur smelled good, I was surprised that the hint of perspiration on him was actually pleasant. I never thought that sweat could smell good, but mixed with this sort of sweet, smokey smell of his, I kept on breathing through my nose.


	11. Rayna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur helps reader get back what’s hers and Dutch gets a little agitated. Little bit of violence in this one.

After riding aimlessly for a while we passed by a freshwater stream and Arthur wanted to stop to fill up his canteen. I dismounted too, coming to kneel by the water's edge, cupping handfuls to sip from. The two of us had sobered up a fair bit, only a little wobbly on our feet. Arthur finished filling up his canteen, guzzling some down; I sensed him looking at me. He nudged my arm with the canteen, offering it to me. I shook my hands dry and took it, drinking from it was far more satisfactory than anything I managed to get from my hands. 

"We need to get you a canteen, it's a bad idea going out without one," he said, watching me drink. I finished off the bottle, then filled it back up for him before handing it back.

"I know, just one of the many things I lost."

Arthur bent over, splashing his face with water, wiping it around the back of his neck to cool off. It was a hot day, and I unfastened the top few buttons of my shirt, pulling on it to waft some air back and forth. The crown of my head burned under the sun and I put a hand to it, feeling the heat of my hair and grimacing. 

"That and a hat," I added.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I've got an extra hat on my horse," he said turning and staggering up to his feet, still a little off balance. He retrieved a hat from one of his saddlebags and tossed it to me so it glided through the air in a spin. I caught it before it could go in the stream and put it on, sighing with the relief it brought. 

"Ahh, thank you," I said and he returned to me, sitting down beside me. I jumped when I felt his fingers on my chin, turning my head to him. My face must've been a picture, but he was just staring at my cheeks.

"I should've given you that sooner, you've caught the sun," he told me, and I pulled my chin out of his grip so I could look away. He was already focusing on the redness in my face, and I could tell it was getting redder for a different reason. Arthur let his arm drop, but he didn't stop looking at me. "You look good in my hat," he said rather suddenly. 

I looked at him; the hair surrounding his face was wet and sticking to his forehead from where he'd splashed it, poking out from under his hat. The front of his shirt was damp with sweat, under his arms too. He was closer to me than I thought and I could really get a look at him, noticing the creases under his eyes, the scruff of his stubble, the slight puffiness of his bottom lip where there was an almost healed cut. Arthur had a way of looking both youthful and mature at the same time and I couldn't quite pin down how old he was, just that he was older than me. 

"You look good… in your hat… too," I mumbled, not at all thinking about what I was saying and only realising what was coming out of my mouth once it was too late. "Oh my– forgive me. Hot days, whiskey and me never did mix well."

Arthur tilted his head down so the brim of his hat covered his face, but I could see his shoulders moving with laughter. 

"There you go, laughing at me again," I said, swatting his arm.

"It ain't out of malice," he shook his head, looking up at me and showing me the amusement on his face.

"I'm sure it ain't," I shook my head. 

"You're a funny lady. You're smart and capable and yet you…"

"What?"

"You care so much about what people think," he pointed out. I didn't deny it and he smiled kindly at me. "You're real nervous around folk, ain't you?"

"Is it that obvious?" I laughed awkwardly, looking down and fiddling with the grass beneath us. 

"Don't you worry, it's sort of charming," he admitted, his eyes exploring my face a little, flicking down to my lips before meeting my eyes again. When I didn't respond, Arthur cleared his throat and changed the subject. 

"Emerald Ranch, you reckon that's where your horse could be?"

"Oh, yes I think so," I nodded. 

"What's she look like? I've gotta meet Hosea there for something, I'll keep an eye out."

"She's an Ardennes. Creamy coloured, mostly, but her head and legs are a reddish brown. Same colour as her mane. She ain't got much of a tail, the family we bought her from had docked her. She was a draft horse." 

"No tail. Well, that narrows it down a little," he nodded. "I'll see what I can find out."

"Thank you," I told him sincerely. 

"Or…" he started, pursing his lips in thought. "How about we go over there now?"

"Now? Half drunk?" I stared at him in disbelief.

"We're sober enough to have a look around, we don't need to do nothing." 

"Well," I looked down and considered it for a moment. "Alright. Yes, let's do it." 

He rose to his feet and held his hands out to me, pulling me upright with him. He didn't seem to mind when my momentum carried me forwards, and I fell into his chest. He simply righted me on my feet, and headed for his horse. 

-

Perhaps the adrenaline had pumped the alcohol through my liver much faster than normal, but I felt unusually sober by the time we rode into Emerald Ranch. My eyes were darting all over the place and locking onto any moving creature larger than a dog, searching for Rayna. I doubted we'd be lucky enough to stroll past her on the road, but I kept my eyes peeled anyway. 

We rode through the small settlement – the air ripe with the smell of farm animals – passing mainly pens of sheep and pigs. Arthur decided to pull off of the main road, hitching Jet up near a small plot of land with some stables towards the back. Our plan was to head over there, have a discreet look around. So we made for the back of the stables, walking along a stretch of fence on the outskirts of the settlement where there weren't many eyes on us. 

We were rounding the corner of the stables when I spotted him, the gentleman sitting down up against the wall, napping. I immediately spun on my heel, grasping Arthur's arm to stop him from going any further, simultaneously crashing into his chest. His hands went to my upper arms, steadying me, but he didn't step back. I felt flustered at his proximity but I didn't let it distract me; Arthur gave me a quizzical look but I held my finger up to my lips and poked my head around the corner of the building. I couldn't see the man's face but I could see his gator skin boots and his feathered hat, and the ponytail hanging down over his shoulder; all things I recognised easily. He was a burly, hairy guy, very distinctive.

I returned to Arthur. "That's the guy, he's the one who took Rayna," I whispered. 

Arthur took a peek for himself, then nodded slowly, thinking. 

"I'll keep my eye on him and make sure he stays put. If he don't, I'll distract him; you can head into those stables and see if she's there. You find her, you book it, alright? Get her out of there and don't look back, I'll be right behind you."

"I thought you said we weren't gonna do nothing," I pointed out and he smirked.

"Well, since we're here," he shrugged, then waved me off. "You go on."

I nodded firmly and spun around, jogging back over to the fence. I looked around for any witnesses, relieved to find the area vacant, then climbed over the fence. My feet dug into the mud below me and I had to pull them free before I could start moving, but when I did I beelined for the stables. 

I ran inside, scanning the place. My initial view had me disappointed, spotting only a black Shire, but then I saw her, laying down on the floor in the gated section in the corner. My Rayna. I couldn't slide the bolt of the door open fast enough, throwing it wide open. I rushed inside, crouching down beside her and patting her head; she was sleeping but soon woke, rising up to her feet, ready to work. I laughed in surprise, feeling a little emotional at the sight of her. I checked her over, making sure she didn't have any injuries as I scratched the spot between her ears; I was relieved to find that she was okay. 

"I missed you, baby," I whispered to her, but I couldn't hang about. 

I flipped over a nearby bucket to step on and lifted myself onto her, bareback, and held onto her mane as I got her moving. We left the stable and I leaned forward so I felt more secure and pressed in with my legs, urging the horse forwards, faster. Despite Arthur telling me not to, I looked back; I saw the guy who had stolen her come running out from behind the stables, closely followed by Arthur. He crumpled to the ground mid-yell, though, when Arthur bashed him over the back of the head with the butt of his gun to knock him out.

I winced and turned back, leaving the penned in area and speeding up the main road, racing out of there as fast as I dared without the security of a saddle. I made it out into the open space outside of Emerald Ranch, the realisation of what I'd just done setting in. I looked down at Rayna, at her cute little ears and her sweet face, focused and alert, and grinned. It wasn't long till I was all out laughing, letting the victorious emotions flow through me. I cheered, not slowing up, letting her run and feel the breeze, getting reacquainted with her.

The sound of hooves pummelling the ground behind me signified Arthur's presence, following me into the open plains. I glanced over my shoulder and grinned at him, and he nodded at me. I sat up on my horse, feeling the air hitting my face and rejoicing in the way it made me feel, almost like I couldn't breathe but in a way that was more exhilarating than unpleasant. I cheered aloud, yelling into the air, laughing like a lunatic. I let myself have the moment, incredible as it felt, since it'd been a long time since I felt so happy. 

I was out of breath when I slowed Rayna down, bringing her to a stop miles away from Emerald Ranch, safe from anyone who might decide to come after us. Arthur stopped by my side as I dismounted, I walked around and held Rayna's face in my hands, going onto my tiptoes and pressing my forehead to hers as I so often did before. I kissed the center of her face, then gave her a gentle hug around her neck, feeling her breath puff over my back. 

"Ohh, look at you. My beautiful girl!" I whispered to her as I pulled back, running my fingers through her mane and smoothing a hand over her coat. "I hope that feller looked after you." 

I turned to Arthur, he was standing by his horse, watching me with his hands casually on his belt. My legs carried me forwards and before I thought of stopping myself, I threw my arms around him. He grunted in surprise, freezing for a moment before chuckling and bringing his arms around me too. He patted the small of my back, holding me very gently; far more gently than I was holding him. His broad chest and thick arms surrounded me in the nicest of ways, it'd been a long time since I'd had a hug from anyone and Arthur certainly gave a good one. I squeezed him for a few moments, lingering perhaps a little too long before backing off, clearing my throat and looking down at his feet. 

"Thank you, Arthur."

"For what? I barely did anything," he chuckled, lifting his hat up and running his hand through his hair before replacing it. 

I shook my head. "This means so much to me. I felt so bad, not going after her before." 

"I'm glad we could get her back," he said, touching my arm before taking a step towards Rayna. He patted her neck, "she's fast, for her size. I was worried you weren't stopping, thought this'd be the last I saw of you."

"I just wanted to stretch her legs," I laughed, coming to stand beside him, petting Rayna's back. I bet she loved all the attention. "She's a big girl, not built for speed, but she can really go when she wants to." 

"You rode without a saddle?"

"Yeah. She's a good girl, she can ride without one. I didn't see any saddles while I was in there, but I didn't wanna push my luck anyway. Had to just get her out of there."

"I've got a spare saddle I don't use no more, you're welcome to it," he said, stepping back and looking her over. 

"Thank you. You're too kind to me," I said, capturing his attention. 

"You deserve a little kindness, I reckon," he said, then mounted his horse again. I climbed onto Rayna – struggling a little without a stirrup – and followed Arthur as he started to ride. "Come on, let's get back to the camp." 

-

Charles was standing guard when we returned to the camp and he smiled when he saw us approaching. He gave us a little wave and nodded towards Rayna.

"You got your horse back?" He presumed. 

"We did! We got her back and Arthur left the guy who stole her with a parting gift of a lump on the back of his head," I giggled, dismounting. Charles reached into his satchel and pulled out a carrot; he tossed it to me.

"A little welcome gift for her," he said, and I turned and fed it to her. 

"She says thank you," I told him, stroking her head as she ate the carrot from my hand. 

"I suppose you'll be on your way, now you have your horse back?" A new voice joined us, and I turned to look at Dutch. He didn't seem particularly pleased. 

"Hi Dutch," I said, giving Rayna one last pat on the neck before approaching the leader of the gang. "I'm not going anywhere just yet."

"I just hope you didn't cause too much of a stir, getting that horse back."

"We didn't, the guy didn't see Arthur. If he saw me, what does it matter? I've got no known affiliation with you folk, and he knows what he did. I imagine he was expecting me to come looking for her anyway. Nobody else saw a thing," I assured him. 

Arthur came up beside me. "Don't worry, Dutch. I was with her, you trust me, don't you?" 

"I trust you not to go pulling these stunts without speaking with me first, you know I was fully prepared to help her get her horse back when the time was right. And don't think that I can't smell the alcohol coming off the two of you," Dutch raised his voice just a little and Charles slowly stepped away. I couldn't blame him. 

"It was easy, in and out work. Why're you mad? It's one more thing you ain't gotta worry about," Arthur said, trying to diffuse the situation. 

"Because now she's got her horse back, there's nothing stopping her from running off to the damn sheriff!" Dutch exploded. It didn't shock me, I knew that it would be something he was worried about, but I was shocked that he was blind to the obvious flaw in his worries.

"With all due respect, Mr. Van Der Linde, if I was gonna do that, I'd've stolen one of your horses and done it on the first night." 

"But you wouldn't, because you needed our help to get her back," he said, jabbing a finger in Rayna's direction. I opened my mouth, then closed it again; I had to admit, he had me there. Arthur looked at me and I could even see him doubting his actions.

"You clearly don't trust me, and I can't fault you for that. All I can say is, I promise I ain't going to no sheriff. I'll leave when the time is right, but not before doing right by all of you," I explained, holding my hands up to him.

"And how do you suppose you do that?" Dutch asked.

"By helping you make a little money," I said, then reached into my chemise, raising a few brows as I did; Arthur sharply looked away as if I was stripping down in front of him. I held up the note the woman at the train station had given to me. "Here's that rich lady's address, the woman we stole the luggage from. I'm up for helping you rob her again."


	12. Jemima Jones II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader meets a strange new member of the Van Der Linde gang and they pull off a job together! Contains criminal activity, of course.

A few long days passed without another word from Dutch. He seemed satisfied enough by my willingness to help the gang make money, and he'd left the ball in my court. It was up to me to get the wheels turning on the robbery, but everyone at the camp was so busy I was starting to worry I'd never get the job done. That was until a new face walked into camp, a man I hadn't seen before but Dutch seemed to recognise. Micah, a slightly ratty looking feller with blond hair and a certain swagger about him that was complacent at best, downright arrogant at worst. Dutch pointed him in my direction first chance he got, grabbing the opportunity to pair us up on my job. 

"Hello, miss, there's certainly a lot of new faces around here. You'd think we were some kind of charity," was his very first greeting. I stood up from where I was kneeling, washing some clothes. 

"Well, I'm not a charity case, Mr, uh, Mr. Bell, was it?" I said, holding my hand out for him to shake. He looked at it for a long time before actually shaking it, and he was a little rough. 

"I've been told you've got some work for me." 

"I suppose I have, if Dutch's given you your orders, I guess we're doing this together. It's a house, quite a ways away. About halfway between here and Annesburg."

"You want me to go all the way over to Annesburg? For what, a few trinkets?" Micah scoffed and shook his head. 

"Only half way there," I cocked a brow at him. "John rode over there before, he said it looked promising. And the woman is expecting me. When she gave me that address she was under the impression I was a servant girl looking for work, she lives there with her husband and her son, my plan is to go over there and meet the family, have myself a little interview, while you–”

"While I sneak in and rob them blind, how very creative," he rolled his eyes, and I narrowed mine.

"If you'd prefer not to do this, I'm happy to wait a while until John is available. I know he's got another job going on right now, but this house ain't going anywhere."

"No, I'll do it. But I get a bigger cut than you," he pointed at me.

"Of course. I'm just a distraction, and I ain't doing this for myself anyway," I shrugged, walking away from him. "I'm gonna get changed, then we can head off now."

Micah followed me. 

"Ain't you gonna explain some of the finer details? How're we doing this, you go in the front, I go in the back, we meet up behind the stables or what?" 

"We can talk about that on the way, John sketched me a layout of the land, where everything is, I have an idea," I explained, picking up the dress Mary-Beth had lent to me once again, since I couldn't go robbing this woman wearing the clothes I'd stolen from her. I walked around the back of the girls' wagon, out of sight from the camp where I usually changed. 

"Are you going to stand there and watch me get undressed or may I have some privacy?" I asked when Micah followed me around the corner. A smirk appeared on his face.

"I don't know, I ain't opposed to watching if you're offering, darling," he sneered, looking me up and down. 

"Get out of here," I waved him off, glowering, and he turned and left with a lecherous chuckle. 

-

It took us a while to ride out there and on the way I told Micah my plan. He listened to me surprisingly attentively, only butting in to ask the occasional question; overall he seemed pretty satisfied by what I'd told him. We were going to stop our horses a fair way away from the house and I'd walk up to the front, get in the house and get settled with the family. Micah would approach only when I was inside, and he'd find a way into the house while I was speaking to them, I'd keep them occupied while he cleaned out as much as he could. Then, I'd ask to see the stables, leaving the house empty for him to finish the job. 

All going to plan, I'd leave after seeing the stables and meet Micah back at the horses, and we'd be out of there before the family even knew there was something amiss.

It was a simple plan, but I didn't do complexities when it came to these things. I wanted in and out work with little to go wrong. Micah asked me how much experience I'd had and I told him the truth; not a lot. But the experience I did have had been successful and pulled off completely on my own, and he seemed assured that I could manage what we were doing. After all, I'd just be distracting the family, having an interview, it wasn't extreme criminal activity by any means. The real work was down to him, hence why my cut would be small, he'd said. 

Fair enough, I'd said. I didn't need cash, per se. I needed weapons, and so I told him to keep his eyes peeled.

We reached the house by mid afternoon and rode past it, getting a good look at the place before dismounting up the road from it. We familiarised ourselves with John's sketch of the layout, and everything checked out from what we'd seen on our pass by. With that, I declared I was ready, and Micah gave me a pat on the back.

"Good luck, Jemima Jones," he said, snorting at my alias. "Hope you get the job." 

I rolled my eyes and smirked before jogging off towards the house. I slowed to a natural stroll as I got closer, making my way up the front path and taking slow, deep breaths to calm myself. The good thing about this plan was, if I was nervous it'd look natural, since I allegedly had a job hanging on this meeting. 

I knocked on the front door and waited, fixing my hair in the reflection of the glass; I was wearing it in two plaits, not perfect but good enough. I'd done them myself and I was getting better each day. Mary-Beth had been proud. 

The door opened and a man answered, I put on my best smile and held my hand out to him. 

"Jemima Jones, pleased to meet you. I met a Mrs. Schwartz a little while ago and she told me to visit this place, it's about a job," I explained and the man nodded knowingly. He shook my hand before calling over his shoulder. 

"Lou! That lady's here!" He turned back to me. "Yes, my wife told me to expect you, come on in. I'm Geoffrey, good to meet you Miss Jones."

He led me into a formal sitting room. The house we were in wasn't hugely lavish but it was certainly the house of a family who lived comfortably. The walls were nicely wallpapered and decorated with framed photographs and artwork, the occasional taxidermy head of a deer or other poor creature. In the sitting room that was located in the middle of the house, there was a fireplace, above which a Springfield rifle sat. I eyed it up as Geoffrey urged me to take a seat on one of the two sofas that took up the middle of the space, and I hoped that Micah would notice it too whenever he was able to loot this particular room. 

Mrs. Schwartz entered the room a few moments later, carrying a tray with a teapot and a trio of teacups on it. She smiled at me and set the tray down on the ornate wooden table between the sofas before sitting down opposite me, next to her husband. 

"Miss Jones, it's very nice to see you again. I thought you weren't going to turn up!" She laughed. "Would you like some tea?" 

"Oh, yes please. I apologise for making you wait so long, I've had rather a busy week, I've moved in with my father," I explained. 

"Ah, that explains it. You know, I was beginning to feel a little uneasy about our meeting," she said, an edge to her voice that made my hair stand on end. 

"Why might that be?"

"I'm afraid my luggage went missing that day, I was starting to wonder if you might've had something to do with that. But you're here, so I realise I had nothing to worry about," she chuckled.

"I'm very sorry to hear that, and I can understand your concerns. You can't be too careful these days. I imagine it was some thug who took your case, I hear there's been more and more undesirables loitering around Valentine lately," I shook my head sadly, gratefully taking the teacup she offered to me. "Thank you." 

Over the lady's shoulder, I saw Micah peer in through the window and smirk at me. I made sure to keep my face neutral and blew on my tea. 

"Such a shame," she sighed wistfully. "Not to worry, it's only possessions."

"That's a wonderful attitude to have," I nodded. "Where's the boy you were with? How is he doing?"

"He's out in the stables, cleaning them out. Which would of course be part of your job if you began working for us," Geoffrey answered. "Louise told me you've had a lot of experience with that," he placed his hand on his wife's knee and I nodded. 

"That's right. I was somewhat of a Jack of all trades in my old job. I'd wake up early in the morning and tend to the horses, then I'd come in in time to make the family's breakfast, and in the day time I'd be childminding, cleaning and other general chores, running errands for the lady of the house, you know.”

"Well that'd be mighty helpful. Sometimes we're just desperate for another set of hands. There just ain't enough hours in the day," he chuckled, shaking his head, watching my lips as I took a sip of my tea. 

I wondered if Micah had made it into the house yet, since I hadn't heard a thing. Of course, that was a good thing, perhaps he was just extremely quiet. I hoped that was the case. 

"Now, I'd just like to explain some of the terms I had in mind," Louise said, placing her own teacup down on a saucer on the table. "You'd be living with us, I believe that's somewhat standard for your line of work?"

"It has been the case for most of my employment, yes," I nodded. 

"We have a room for you. Well… we will have. There's a small shack, uh, building out by the stables that we can make up for your comfort. We can go out and look at that later on but be warned, it's in rather a state of disrepair at the moment," she explained.

"But don't worry, we will prepare that for your arrival and ensure that it's to your satisfaction," Geoffrey added. I felt a touch of guilt at that, suddenly they were being very kind, behaviour that was so unlike what I'd witnessed at the train station. 

I pulled myself together and pushed on. This needed doing for the sake of the gang, the people who'd taken care of me.

"That's most generous," I said. 

The three of us spoke for a while, discussing my 'experience'. I mainly just spoke about the sorts of things I did anyway when I lived in a home, the cooking and the cleaning, general maintenance. It was easy, too easy, the pair of them were eating out of my hand and seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of having me working for them. I had a constant level of guilt in the back of my mind but I kept to it, knowing that Micah was somewhere in the house, cleaning them out. These people were well off, anyway, they wouldn't miss the stuff. Right? 

By the time we had all finished our tea, I was certain that Micah would've had enough time to explore the rest of the house. So I placed my teacup down and smiled at my two hosts. 

"Well, may I see the stables? And the room I'd be staying in?" I asked and they both nodded. 

"Of course! But like I said, your room needs a lot of work so don't let it put you off!" Louise said, rising to her feet and gesturing for me to follow. Geoffrey was right behind me, following me through the house; through the kitchen and out a side door.

"Oh, I'm sure it's no worse than my previous lodgings," I laughed. 

We crossed the grounds to the paddock, heading through to the stables. The boy was in there, just like they'd said, and he was shovelling manure into a wheelbarrow. He looked up upon our arrival, greeting us wordlessly with a nod. Louise walked over to him, putting her hand on his shoulder and guiding him over to Geoffrey and I. 

"Sam, say hello to Jemima," she said, and the boy looked up at me and gave me a little wave. Louise smacked his arm sharply. "Say hello, boy!"

"H-hello," he stammered. Louise gave a tight lipped smile and sent him on his way again.

"Sorry about him. He don't talk much, getting two words outta him is like blood from a stone," she sighed, shaking her head. "Anyway, these are the stables… got a few horses as you can see, so you'll have your work cut out."

I looked around and counted a total of six. They were all very nice horses, a couple of them were Turkomans, though I spotted a Thoroughbred and an Arabian too. I nodded and let out an impressed sound. 

"These are lovely horses, ma'am."

"Yes, well, Geoffrey's brother used to race them. He's no longer with us, but we inherited them and now they're just… well. They're wasted on us," she admitted. 

"You ever thought of selling them?" I asked. 

"Yes, numerous times," Geoffrey admitted. "But I think my brother would turn in his grave."

"I see," I nodded. 

"We're hoping Sam will grow up interested in riding. Would you like that, son? Riding these horses one day?" Louise called over to him. 

"Sure," he shrugged, less than enthused, continuing with his job. 

"Well, I suppose they're worth keeping, then," she laughed awkwardly. "Anyway, I apologise for my rudeness but I have an errand to run, so I best be off. Sam, you're coming with me."

"I haven't finished," he protested. 

"Then you should've worked quicker! You can finish when you get back. Come on," she hissed, then turned to me, mouthing an apology. "It's been lovely speaking, Jemima. I can safely say I'd be happy to have you. I will leave the finer details with my husband." 

She approached me and shook my hand, giving it a squeeze. 

"Thank you, Mrs. Schwartz," I nodded. 

"You're most welcome. Sam!" 

Then she was leaving the stables, heading off the property with her son on her heels. I was relieved that she didn't go back to the house, not knowing how far Micah had gotten. I looked back at Geoffrey when they were gone to see him staring at me, a little smile on his lips. 

"So did I get the job?" I asked, making him chuckle. He took a couple of steps towards me and I resisted my instinct to back away. 

"You certainly did, Miss Jones," his voice had changed, lowered. 

"Alright, well I sure am glad. Should I, uh, come over on Monday to start, or?" 

"We ain't even discussed payment yet," he pointed out, but the look in his eye suggested that was the last thing on his mind. "You're mighty pretty, Jemima. Lovely name, too. Jemima Jones. Rolls right off the tongue." 

I laughed nervously. 

"I'm glad the wife's gone. Means I can discuss some of the terms _I've_ had in mind," he said, reaching his hand up to grasp my chin. He leaned in and I jolted backwards. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Schwartz, I think you've misunderstood," I exclaimed. He took my hand in both of his. 

"I understand perfectly well. You work for me and my wife, serving us however necessary. Don't worry, I'll make sure it's pleasurable for you too." 

"I'm not comfortable with this, this ain't part of the deal," I backed away, but he drew me in by my waist. I went to shove him away, pushing at his chest with both hands. Fucker wasn't letting go. My leg twitched, I was ready to plow it into his groin, but before I could;

"Get your filthy hands off of my wife," Micah appeared in the doorway. My head darted towards him and Geoffrey let me go, holding his hands up. 

"I didn't realise you were married, Mrs. Jones," 

_Neither did I,_ I thought.

"Come on, Jemima, let's get out of here," Micah stepped forwards, grabbing onto my arm and pulling me towards the door. 

"Hold on," Geoffrey called out. "We uh… we could work out some sort of deal, Mr. Jones." 

"You better not be suggesting I sell my woman to you," Micah growled. 

"You make it sound so vulgar, sir," Geoffrey chuckled anxiously. 

"I'm sorry, friend, but this lady here," Micah wrapped his arm around me, pulling me up against him and burying his face in my hair, inhaling deeply and loudly. It took all of my control not to screw my face up in disgust. "Is all mine." 

The dirty laugh that Micah did right in my ear made my skin crawl, but he led me out of there so it was all shadowed by relief. He didn't release me until we were far away from the stables and leaving the property. I wanted to chew him out for his actions, but no matter how I went to phrase it, he'd still helped me.

I fell back on trusty defensiveness. "I could've taken care of that myself, you didn't have to make such a scene." 

"But that wouldn't've been half as fun, now, would it?" He questioned, mounting his horse, which was holding heaving saddlebags. 

"I guess I should thank you," I said, leaving it at that. "How'd it go at your end?"

"Very, very well. You did good, picking this little job out. It'll make Dutch real happy."

"Good," I nodded, keeping my face straight when I really wanted to smile.


	13. Belonging

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little chat with Abigail and some realisations.

Micah and I were sat going through his saddle bags at the table, well, he was watching me go through them while he idly cut chunks out of the table with the tip of his knife. He'd picked up any valuables he found, as well as anything that might come in useful like food or tools, he'd done a very good job of it too. 

"This is all great, Micah," I said, sorting things into piles so we could more easily work out how much we'd taken. We had piles for cash, jewellery, trinkets and collectables (he'd stolen a lot of pocket watches, some he said were worth a lot) and for things that we'd be keeping rather than selling. Each pile was pretty generous. 

"Why d’you sound so surprised? It's not like I haven't done this before," he said drily, looking at me from under his hat. 

"I'm not surprised you managed to find it all, I'm surprised at how much those people had. We uh, we really cleaned them out," I gave an unsteady laugh as I pulled the final money clip out of the bag and tossed it on the pile. 

"We sure did," he smirked at me, then noticed the look on my face. "That's a face that don't belong here, if ever I've seen one."

"What's that mean?" 

"Guilt. You're feeling guilty, ain't you? Well you better suck it up, darling, we ain't got time for those kinds of feelings," he warned, jabbing his knife into the table, hard. 

"I know. I'm fine, I'll get used to it," I shrugged and he let out a low laugh. 

"You stick with me and you will," he said. I looked up at him, caught off guard by the genuine look of encouragement on his face. "Anyway, you wanted guns, didn't you?" 

Micah rose to his feet and put his knife away, strolling over to his horse and waving me over. I sped-walked to keep up with him and when we reached his horse, he retrieved the Springfield Rifle that I'd spotted on the mantelpiece. 

"Happy birthday, darling," he crooned, handing it over to me. 

"Oh, yes! Thank you, Micah!" I grinned at him, then looked down at the weapon, turning it over in my hands and inspecting it. It was engraved G. M. S, I assumed Geoffrey's initials, in swirling script. 

"It'll need a clean, but it looks magnificent on you, brings out your eyes," he said, oozing sarcasm with every word. He stepped towards me and tipped my chin up with his finger. "Do I get a kiss?" 

"You're gonna have to do better than that," I snorted, removing myself from his grip and turning to store the gun on Rayna's saddle, who was hitched up next to Micah's horse.

"Was worth a try," he said, gesturing widely with his arms as he strolled backwards away from me. Over his shoulder I spotted Arthur, watching us as he changed his clothes. He was just buttoning up his shirt, and despite him being fully dressed, I averted my eyes anyway. 

Micah was with Dutch, no doubt explaining how the robbery had gone. I figured we'd made at least a few hundred dollars from our haul. I was heading over there to join him, but Arthur met with me half way and nodded at me in greeting. 

"You and Micah did that house together, then?" He questioned.

"Yeah, Dutch paired us up as soon as he got here. I'm not entirely sure who the man is, but he did a good job picking the house clean," I gestured towards the table and Arthur nodded. 

"The man is someone I reckon we ought to be careful around, but that's just my thinking," Arthur said, lowering his voice. I stared at him for a moment, not really sure what I was supposed to say. "Anyway, I thought I should tell you, I think if you're wanting to head off on your own, soon would be a good time."

"Why? Because of Micah?" I raised my brows.

"He's as good an incentive as any, but no, not exactly. The Pinkerton detective agency, they're after us and they know we're over here. I bumped into a couple of them when I was out fishing with Jack this morning, and it weren't exactly a warm welcome," he explained, tone hushed yet urgent.

"So, what, are you moving on?" I asked, eyes widening at the news.

"I don't know. Probably," he shrugged his shoulders. "I've got this train robbery on with John later, I guess we'll see how that goes."

"Is that a good idea?"

"Between you and me, I don't think we've had one of those in a long time. But we do what we can," he sighed. 

"Hey, cowpoke, she giving you the lowdown on our little job today? Am I in your good books yet?" Micah came over to us thumbs hooked on the waist of his pants.

"Micah," Arthur nodded tersely.

"She tell you about the part where I came in like her knight in shining armour when Mr. What's-his-face got a little too friendly?" He smirked between the two of us, practically puffing up like a peacock. Arthur frowned and looked at me. 

"No. What happened?" 

"It wasn't a big deal, Mr. Schwartz seemed to think he was getting something out of the deal that he wasn't. I was about to handle it, but Micah stepped in," I explained dismissively, shaking my head. I did not want a big deal made out of the fact that a man had stepped in to save me. Again.

"I told him, no one takes a crack at my wife 'cept _me_." Micah wrapped his arm around my shoulders with a dirty laugh. "Ain't that right, sugarplum?"

"Something like that," I narrowed my eyes at him and plucked his arm from around me, stepping away. 

Arthur looked between the two of us, analysing the situation before chuckling to himself. Micah shot him a questioning look. 

"Oh, now that's risky," Arthur said.

Micah seemed puzzled. "What is?" 

"Spinning far fetched stories, like you having a _wife_ ,"

"Ohh, come on now Morgan, you tryin'a hurt my feelings?" Micah laughed, taking a few steps closer to Arthur. "Mr. Schwartz, he believed it just fine, didn't he my sweet?"

Micah turned to me and snaked a hand around my waist, tugging me flush to him.

"Would you stop touching me?" I snapped, shoving him away from me. He held his hands up to me, giving me a look that was both indifferent and wounded, I couldn't tell which part was genuine. Arthur seemed thoroughly amused by the display. 

"I'd listen to her if I were you," he chuckled. He shook his head as he walked away, patting my shoulder twice as he did. "I've gotta get going. Micah, leave the poor lady alone." 

"Wait, Arthur," I spun around and caught his arm before he left. He turned back to me, eyes a little wide and confused. I was frozen for a second, what I was going to say completely evaporating from my mind. "Uhh, you'll be careful, won't you?"

"As careful as I can be, in this line of work. Don't you worry," he smiled, prying my hand from where it was still attached to his arm and giving it a gentle squeeze before carrying on towards his horse. 

"Good luck!" I called to him as he mounted up. I watched him as he gave me a quick wave and started riding, disappearing between the trees. 

"Now it all make sense," Micah said behind me. I didn't bother turning around. "You're all soft for Morgan, ain't you?" He scoffed. 

I was so damn obvious, wasn't I?

With a sigh, I walked away, ignoring Micah's words.

-

Sitting around the fire with a bowl of Pearson's stew, I had time to think about what Arthur had said. He'd encouraged me to leave soon, if that's what I wanted. I supposed the timing was right; I had Rayna back, I had a gun, I had a little money after our robbery. I could ride out already, go and buy myself a tent and be back where I started, I could get on with my life. It was what I wanted, after all.

But something in me felt incomplete. Leaving felt strange, wrong. Even more wrong than it ever felt being here with all these people. 

"Hey there," someone said. I looked up to see Abigail standing over me. "You look… brooding."

My mouth went a little dry, considering it was the first time she'd ever really spoken to me, and I was convinced she thought I was after John. 

"Yeah, I guess I am a little," I admitted. She sat down next to me, never looking away. 

"You worried about the fellers?" She guessed. I met her eyes and searched them for any sign of an ulterior motive, I wondered if she was trying to pry something out of me. However, I could only find sincerity.

"The train robbery? A little bit, I suppose. But I don't doubt they know what they're doing."

"That they do," she nodded. "I sometimes worry, of course. It's hard not to think that one day he might not come back from one of his jobs. By he I mean–"

"John," I nodded, taking a breath. 

"Yes," she smiled a little. "I uh, I overheard Karen… what she said to you. I was behind the wagon having a cigarette, I weren't listening on purpose." 

My heart was pounding and I could do nothing but stare at her. I wanted so badly to get up and walk away from the situation so I wouldn't have to face her, but I knew that'd only look bad. 

"Don't look so worried," she laughed a little. "At first I thought maybe there was something to it. But the longer you've been here, and I've seen the way you are with him, I can see that you're just…" 

I waited for her, she pressed her lips together and seemed to struggle with finding the words. 

"You're just a girl who's never been around men all that much. You're like me when I was younger, all nervous and awkward," she said, then caught something in my expression that made her back track. "I don't mean that to be mean!"

"I didn't think you did," I shook my head but looked down, avoiding meeting her eyes. "But I suppose the fact that you noticed embarrasses me a little. If you notice, they notice."

"I don't think so. Men don't notice things like that," she laughed, patting my arm.

"Arthur did," I said, thinking back to the other day, before we looked for Rayna. He'd noticed my nervousness around people; whether he knew it was worse around him, I wasn't sure.

"You like him, don't you?" She questioned. I didn't say anything, but Abigail decided to explain her reasoning anyway. "When Mary-Beth teased you about it, you didn't exactly deny it. Plus, I've seen you with him and you act different. You _look_ different."

"Do I? I've only known him a little while," I laughed, shaking my head like I found the whole thing amusing.

"That's all it takes," she was smiling at me now, a playful smile. At least I was wrong in thinking she hated me; relief just barely overshadowed the nerves I felt at being called out like this.

"He's a lovely man," I said quietly, and shook my head again. "But he's… he's so much more than me."

"I'm sorry?" She cocked a brow, thoroughly confused by my words. I wasn't even sure I knew how to explain them. 

"I went with him to see Mary. I saw him with the woman he loved and she's nothing like me. She's older, prettier, she's experienced. Arthur is like… he's a real man, ain't he? I feel like a little girl in comparison. I don't think he's looking for anything right now, let alone with a woman like me who's barely even spoken to a man let alone kissed one." 

"That's sweet," Abigail laughed. 

"Sweet?" I cocked a brow.

"You think he ain't gonna look twice at you just 'cause you ain't done none of that before?"

"He ain't gonna wanna waste his time on someone who don't know the first thing about anything, a fine man like him I bet he could and does have whoever he wants. He's out of my reach," I admitted.

"You know, the fellers in this camp ain't shy about bringing women back here from time to time. Arthur, though, he's never… aside from Mary, once, but she weren't exactly here for a quickie," she said and I shook my head, feeling nosey despite not asking. 

"That's none of my business," I said quietly. 

"He ain't all that much of a ladies man, from what I've seen. Truth be told, he never really seems all that interested in anyone," she shrugged.

"Why're you telling me this?" I asked.

"Because I bet you're thinking he's this Casanova type, different woman in every town?" She guessed, the corner of her mouth lifting. I had to admit, she was kind of right. "I can't say I don't see why, he certainly could be like that if he wanted. But he ain't, I'd go as far as saying he's a little shy when it comes to these things. So, my thinking is, if you want him… you've gotta make the move."

I laughed, loudly. Abigail continued to give me this little smile. 

"Yeah, alright. I'll do that when pigs fly."

"Hear me out. You ain't gotta do anything grand, you just gotta find little ways of letting him know you're interested. Subtle, but not too subtle," she explained making dainty little gestures with her hands, sitting up straight. 

"Like what?" I still hadn't recovered from my amusement, this woman clearly didn't know me. Thinking I'd have the stones to even think of such a thing. 

"Well it's up to you. But one thing I would do, stop dodging eye contact. I can see you doing that even with me, but you've got pretty eyes. Let him see them," she said, tilting my head up to face her with a hand on my chin. 

"Eye contact for me is hard," I said, trying my best to keep my eyes on hers and feeling extremely uncomfortable in the process.

"It's a skill," she said, letting go of my chin. "It'd benefit you to learn it."

"Why're you giving me all this advice; you ain't doing this just 'cause you think I'm sweet on John and you're leading me off the trail, are you?" I snorted. Abigail chuckled, patting my arm. 

"No, I ain't worried about that. Especially not now. I'm doing this because I think it might be nice for Arthur to have someone, he's a good man and that Mary girl never did treat him right," she sighed. "Truly, I think he holds this gang together at times, he's always this rock, this solid presence. Always got his head screwed on. I think that puts a lot of pressure on him, whether he knows it or not." 

"He's incredibly loyal to you all," I nodded, admiring him for that. 

"He is. I just think, if he had someone like I have John – and I know he and I aren't exactly a model couple right now but you get my point – it could be nice for him," she explained. I felt a weight on my shoulders at that, feeling like she was giving me some sort of duty that I wasn't equipped to carry out. I sighed and deflected the conversation.

"You and John, I don't know what's happened with you two but I hear you arguing. I just wanna say, I hope you two work things out. You have a beautiful family, Jack is such a sweet boy," I told her and she seemed touched by my words. 

"Thank you," she said softly. "I hope so too. Just– John can be such a damn idiot, he makes me so mad."

"But you love him, right? That's what matters," I said, and Abigail nodded slowly, considering my words. 

"Yeah. You're right about that."

-

It was late by the time any of the men returned from their train robbery. I honestly felt sick when I saw Sean and Charles turning up without Arthur or John, but I overheard them telling Dutch that everyone was fine, and the others should be back later. Apparently the robbery had gone well in terms of take, but badly in terms of fall out. A lot of lawmen had turned up, far more than expected. They'd taken care of them though, and lost them long before heading back. 

I thought about what that meant; it was something I already knew but somehow I was a part of it now. These men had just got back from killing a bunch of people, taking men away from their families. This was such a different world to the one I'd lived in up until then. But what surprised me the most was that in my head, I easily brushed it off. The gang needed money, they went out to get it the only way they know how, how can they help it if the law turns up and they have to defend themselves? Either they shoot their way out of there or they get locked up, or worse; killed. They're doing what they need to do to survive, and they're doing it for this family that they'd built up. When I thought of it like that – and I so naturally did – I could understand in a way I never thought I would.

In fact, I found myself admiring their bravery. 

I could feel that I was getting sucked in. I knew that this would be a smart time to leave, just like I'd planned all along. But here's the thing; I no longer had that burning feeling in my gut, the push to get away, the odd sense of homesickness that wasn't for bricks and mortar, but for solitude. It had all dissipated and in its place I was left with a sense of security and belonging, here of all places, with a bunch of criminals and killers. I was beginning to feel frighteningly at home, and it felt good.


	14. Leisure Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some leisure time with Arthur <3

I'd grown used to waking up early, before anyone else, and putting on a pot of coffee. It'd quickly become my routine, so when I approached the fire to see that it was already lit and there was already a pot of coffee waiting for me, it surprised me. I poured myself a cup and looked around the camp, expecting Pearson to be around. He was, but he was still sleeping; that's when I noticed that Arthur's bed was empty. Immediately I felt the usual pang of adrenaline spreading from my stomach at the prospect of him being around; it was becoming more familiar, more pleasant. Excitement rather than nerves. 

I wandered the camp looking for him, finally finding him behind Pearson's wagon with a bucket of water and a wet cloth. I jumped when I realised that he was shirtless, just as he looked up and noticed me. 

"Oh! I'm sorry," I mumbled, turning to head off. 

"No, it's alright. How you doing this morning?" He asked. I stopped, my back still to him, taking a second to breathe before turning around. 

"Not too bad. Yourself?" I asked. He was washing himself, wiping the cloth up and down his chest and under his arms. The top of his union suit was hanging down over his jeans, his upper body totally bare. His torso was gently toned under a fine layer of soft cushion, he was brawny and undeniably masculine with a generous smattering of chest hair. I tried so very hard not to stare.

The side of Arthur's mouth turned up when he caught my expression; he must've known how he made me feel. 

"Not too bad," he echoed me, wringing out his washcloth before wiping it around his neck. "Did Micah give you any more trouble yesterday?"

"Oh, no. He left me alone after you left," I told him, dawdling over to the wagon and leaning up against it, putting me a little closer to him. I sipped my coffee.

"Well, you know where I am if he ever does," he said, then scrubbed at his face. I admired his toned arms as they moved, shining a little with water. I averted my gaze before he pulled the cloth away from his face, staring off towards a group of chickens nearby.

"Thank you, but I should be fine," I assured him and he chuckled.

"I don't doubt that."

"I heard the robbery went okay, a lot of lawmen but a decent take," I said, watching him nod his head slowly.

"Yeah, it went alright. Sounds funny, hearing you talk like that."

"What, about robberies?" I asked, the corner of my mouth lifting in amusement.

"You don't look like– I don't think it suits you, much," he told me, and I wasn't sure how to respond. 

"What does suit me?" 

"I haven't figured it out yet," he shrugged.

I looked at him for a while before averting my eyes, pursing my lips in thought. I really didn't know what to make of the conversation. In the end I simply changed the subject.

"I spoke to Abigail yesterday," I told him, looking back to see him pick up a towel and start drying off. "She don't hate me, like I thought she did."

"I didn't think she would, I told you you worry too much. Still, must be a weight off your shoulders," he said.

"Absolutely," I laughed. He put the towel aside, leaning up against the side of the wagon and facing me, making no move to redress. "She'd heard what Karen said and she seemed to take no notice."

"What, about you and Marston?" He smirked, forever seeming amused by the concept. I nodded my head. "Abigail has her head screwed on, she can sniff out a bunch of bull with the best of 'em."

"She's certainly observant," I laughed, shaking my head and chewing the inside of my cheek. 

"You told me you didn't like how you were coming across; seems you were wrong about that. Folk'll see your intentions, you ain't here to cause trouble. So, I guess now you ain't got nothing to worry about, you won't be so eager to get away from us?" He joked.

"You know? You're right about that," I admitted, and Arthur's brows raised, amusement draining from his face being replaced with uncertainty. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Truth be told, I did some thinking yesterday about what I wanna do. I realised maybe I don't wanna run off as much as I thought I did," I sighed, chewing on my lip. 

"You can't be serious?" Arthur let out a breath that was halfway between a laugh and a sound of disbelief. I frowned and straightened up, facing him head on.

"What do you mean? You were the one asking me the other day if I really wanted to leave, sounded a bit like you thought I'd be better off staying. What's changed?" I asked and Arthur paused for a while, keeping his eyes on mine. I kept Abigail's words in mind and forced myself to hold eye contact. 

"That was before the Pinkertons showed up," he finally said. 

"And? You said you all had each others' backs, looked out for each other. Maybe I… maybe I wanna be a part of all that," I told him and creases formed between his brows.

"You've certainly changed your tune, little miss lone wolf," he snorted. 

"I realised something," I said, gaining an expectant look from him. "People, they– when they're in a situation they can't exactly change they have ways of making themselves feel better. They tell themselves all sorts of lies to change their outlook, to protect themselves," I looked down at the ground.

"What do you mean by that?" 

"I convinced myself I liked being alone, that it was the only way for me, cause it was easier than dealing with the fact that I was lonely and scared about what the future might hold for me; no friends, no nothing," I told him, despite everything in my head screaming at me not to. Once this was said there was no going back. 

Arthur was quiet for a long time and I looked up at him to see his reaction. He looked thoughtful, his face soft and considerate. 

"But the more time I've spent here the more I realise, being alone is nice and all but it ain't something I want permanently. The way I've been living this past year, I've just been surviving, scraping through, I don't think I've spent five minutes not being tense. Here, I've been sleeping through the night, not waking up every time I hear a damn rustle in the trees. I've… I've _smiled_." 

"I thought you were happy on your own," he said. 

"So did I. Not as happy, it turns out, as I am actually interacting with human beings on a regular basis," I laughed. "Feeling like I'm part of something, like I can contribute, be useful. That's better than just surviving. I wanna help you folk, you're good people," I reached out and touched his arm, forgetting for a moment his lack of a shirt and flushing when my hand met bare skin. 

I pulled my hand away and cleared my throat, Arthur seemed to read my mind and shimmied his arms back into his union suit, buttoning it up as he spoke. 

"I don't know about that. I can see what you're saying, and part of me wants to tell you to stick around for those reasons exactly. But we've got the law after us, I don't want you getting wrapped up in and punished for something you weren't even involved in, just by way of association with us," he told me, his voice lowering and turning smoother, deeper. Very pleasant on the ears indeed. 

"That don't put me off, much," I shrugged. "After all, what's my alternative? I wave goodbye and go back to what; my tent? Going days on end without saying a word 'cause there's no one around to hear it? That might've worked for me before but it ain't now, no thanks," I shook my head. "I don't have many options, Arthur. And I like it here."

"You're a woman, you've always got options," Arthur said, and when I cocked a brow at him, he explained. "You could ride up to Valentine right now and find a feller who'd make an honest woman out of you, put a roof over your head, build a life with you. One that don't involve robbing."

"You think? A woman with no money, no reputation at all, let alone a good one. No family. I don't know, Arthur, I ain't all that much of an eligible bachelorette."

"Lot'a folk round here don't care about that. I know if I was leading a normal life and I was lookin' for a woman, I'd– well, I ain't gonna finish that, save you the embarrassment," Arthur muttered, averting his eyes with an awkward chuckle. I felt warm with his words, a special seed of something planting itself in the pit of my stomach that made me want to stick around even more. "My point is, you have other options."

I shook my head. "Whatever your point is, I don't much like the sound of having my whole future resting on the shoulders of some hypothetical man."

Arthur's brows raised, an enlightened look appearing on his face. After a moment he wagged his finger at me, "you know what? Forget all that."

"Huh?"

"I'm speaking from where the sun don't shine," he started, chuckling. "You, m'lady, are stubborn. You're stubborn, real independent, and eventually you'll make your mind up."

"I already have."

"I tell you what, this ain't my decision to make; I'm leaving the door open for you, but I ain't pushing you through it. You wanna stay? I'm sure Dutch'd be real happy about that,” he said, his voice lifting again, turning breezy. 

"And what about you? Would you be happy if I were to stay? You seem just as indecisive as me when it comes to whether I should be staying or leaving."

"Miss, it don't matter what I think," he tilted his head at me and sighed. "You're gonna do exactly what you want, regardless."

"Would you be happy if I stayed?" I repeated, putting my coffee down on the table by Arthur's bucket of water. 

Arthur stared at me in consideration, searching my eyes. I refused to look away despite my heart pounding in my chest, trying to escape up my throat it seemed. Eventually he let out a quiet breath, licking his lips and looking at something off in the distance behind me.

"I enjoy knowing you, ma'am. If you leaving meant I'd never see you again then sure, you staying would be preferable."

A smirk spread across my face before I could stop it and Arthur mirrored it, though there was an edge of questioning behind his. 

"That's a lot of words, Arthur. Are you saying you like me?" I asked, allowing my tone to dip into something mischievous. Why not have a little fun?

"I like hearing what you've got to say, you've got an interesting way of thinking about things. You make for pleasant company. Yes, I like you," he said slowly, a slight playful edge to his words. His smirk wasn't going anywhere.

"Well, I'm glad," I simply said and he shook his head and laughed. 

"Is this one of your 'caring too much about what other people think of you' things? Cause I thought we got over that, with Abigail," he said. I shrugged my shoulders. 

"Not this time. I was just checking since I'm fond of you, too," I dared to say.

Arthur kept his eyes on me for a little while and I was certain I was going to have to lay down to recover from the way my heart had been pounding for so long. He cleared his throat and seemed to force himself to stop smiling, pouting his lips into this badly rendered serious face.

"Ma'am, if you're staying I'll treat you no different to any of the others. I welcome you with open arms, just as long as you keep pulling your weight, which I know you will," he said, turning and picking up the bucket, carrying it off towards the treeline. My legs carried me after him. 

"Speaking of, you got anything on that I can help you with?" I asked. Arthur tossed the water out into the foliage then turned to me.

"You really have changed your tune, first time we rode out hunting together you couldn't seem to get away quick enough."

"Well, you know, that was back when I was still being all reclusive," I said, making Arthur chuckle. 

"I ain't got nothing on till later; I'm meeting John in Valentine. I have a few hours before that, how's about we take a ride together? Staying out of trouble this time."

"Just take a ride? For leisure?”

"Yeah, for _leisure_. Or if you'd prefer, we'll say we're going out looking for… berries. Herbs. Gathering stuff. Whatever we call it, I could use some time away from here," he told me, placing his bucket down and waiting for my response. 

"I'd like that. While we're out I'll keep my eye out for some oleander; Charles asked if I could get him some."

"You ain't gonna find much oleander around here, we'd have to ride out towards Lemoyne for that, prob'ly," he pointed out. 

"Well, how long do you have before you're meeting John?"

Arthur pursed his lips. "We'll head in that direction and see how far we get, no promises. Finish your coffee and I'll go put a shirt on," Arthur touched my arm gently as he passed me on the way to his tent, and I watched him go as I picked up my coffee. It was on the verge of going cold, so I downed it in one.

-

Arthur and I set off once again before anyone else had woken up, anyone would think we were keeping secrets. It was another hot day and Arthur had handed me his spare hat again; commenting for a second time that it suited me. The hat itself was a little big on me but it fit me enough to stay on while riding, it had a wide, dark leather brim and a decorative purple band, studded with metal buttons all the way around. I hadn't seen myself in it, but I trusted Arthur's judgement in that I didn't look silly. 

We didn't speak for quite some time, but it didn't feel awkward or strange. Our horses trotted side by side and the two of us took in the peace of the early morning, enjoying the picturesque views of the heartlands. I was content to ride in silence, assuming that Arthur was as lost in his head as I was, but he surprised me by being the one to speak first. 

"Where'd you live, if you don't mind me asking? Before you started moving around?" He asked. 

"Oh, in Lemoyne, actually. A bit outside of Saint Denis. You ever been to Saint Denis, Arthur?" 

"Me? Nah, it's a big city. I don't much like those," he admitted. I looked over at him and he continued. "Far too much civilisation, I prefer it out west."

"I've never really been out west. Blackwater is the furthest I've been but I've never explored any of New Austin. Seemed a little like suicide, going on my own with just my tent, I've heard stories of cholera outbreaks and all sorts," I said. Arthur hummed in consideration. 

"You were probably wise, staying away," he nodded in agreement. "So you're a city dweller, first and foremost?" He asked, his tone just a little bit teasing. 

"I wouldn't go that far. Like I said, we lived outside of the city, but I did go in occasionally. It's busy there, and noisy. I much prefer these quieter parts, I've been staying in the heartlands mostly since then. Swamps ain't all that nice to camp in, with all the gators and such," I chuckled. "Plus there's some strange folk around there, it's much safer here."

"You'll find strange folk everywhere," Arthur pointed out and by his tone I imagined he'd had more than a few run-ins. He laughed as though something just occurred to him. "And a guess to a lot of people, we could be the strange folk."

"Yes, I suppose so," I agreed. 

We fell quiet again, and the open space around us felt far too tempting. I was the next to break the silence.

"Can we go fast?" I asked, and Arthur sputtered out a surprised laugh. 

"I thought I was out fishing with Jack again. You turn into a big kid when you're put behind the reins, huh?"

"May we gallop, sir?" I rephrased, putting on a more refined manner of speaking. Arthur smirked at me without saying anything, then called to his horse, using his spurs to speed him up. He bolted ahead of me and I giggled as I sped up after him.

Riding fast was one of my favourite feelings in the world. It was always so exhilarating, feeling the air blasting at your body, feeling the power behind your horse, covering so much ground and feeling completely free. I loved it.

I soon caught Arthur up and rode alongside him. The rhythmic pounding of hooves on the ground below and the whistle of wind past my ears provided a satisfying soundtrack; though I did have to catch Arthur's hat from flying off my head a number of times. It was fun, it made my heart pump as quick as a well timed smile from Arthur tended to, and I laughed aloud as we crossed the earth at impressive speeds. 

We rode like that for a while, slowing up to give the horses a break by the time we reached Dewberry Creek. 

"That enough excitement for you?" He asked me as we settled into a relaxed canter. 

"For now," I grinned. 

"How's that saddle suiting you?" He asked and I glanced down at it. 

"It's great! Thank you for letting me use it," I said.

"It's yours now, I don't need it."

"Hey, can you catch?" I asked, reaching into the pocket of my jeans and retrieving a watch. 

"From the back of a horse?" Arthur looked over at me with a cocked brow. I drew my arm back as if I was about to toss it to him. ”No, I probably can't!" He quickly said and I laughed; I was never actually going to throw it.

Our horses slowed even more and I steered Rayna closer to him, and handed Arthur the pocket watch. 

"It's one of the ones we got from the Schwartz' place. I snagged it from the pile for you," I told him. He opened it up and inspected it. It was a fancy looking watch; not that I knew much about them. I just thought it was nice and I had wanted to give something to Arthur as a token of gratitude.

"Aw, well this is very nice. Thank you, ma'am," he said, his words mumbled just a little like he wasn't sure how to act. 

"A little trade for the saddle, I suppose," I said. Arthur laughed.

"My old saddle that I was thinking of tossing?"

"Yeah well, that's a stolen watch, so I guess it's the thought that counts for the both of us," I said and Arthur seemed to agree. 

"You know this thing is engraved?"

"Is it, where?”

"On the inside of the case, it says; _so you will always hold me close,_ " he read out. My face flushed, I hadn't noticed at all and I might've thought twice about giving it to him if I'd have known. No doubt he thought there was something behind it, a not so subtle hint. "Reckon it's from his wife?" He asked, and I was relieved that he seemed so unbothered by it.

After a moment to gather myself I said; "Either her or his last servant girl," and Arthur laughed aloud, clicking the watch closed and slipping it into his satchel. "Struck me as the type to always have a bit on the side."

"You know, it's a shame I couldn't come along with you to do that job," he said, surprising me. 

"You'd've wanted to?"

"Yeah. Especially if I knew Micah was gonna go with you instead," he sighed.

"You really ain't fond of him, are you?" I observed and he gave me an obvious look. "Well, I thought he was a bit of a creep. He was great at his job but he sure weren't comfortable to be alone with."

"No surprises there. I reckon he'll try something with you, given half a chance. He's bothered all the girls, Abigail'll tell you; but you're the shiny new toy. Dutch knows what he's like, I'm not sure why he'd send him off with you.”

"I needed someone to do the job with and he was available," I shrugged. 

"I suppose. Just you be careful with him."

”I will be. I've dealt with fellers like him before, in saloons all over these parts," I said, then glanced past him at the view behind him. "Wow, look at that. This country really is beautiful, ain't it?"

Both of us stopped on the trail for a moment, looking out across Scarlett Meadows. We were by an expanse of rolling hills filled with wildflowers, lush trees and wildlife. Deer were wandering in small clusters and the sound of birdsong surrounded us. It was moments like this that made me really appreciate how lucky I was to still be alive. 

Arthur pulled a journal out of his satchel and flipped it open. Without saying a word he started sketching in it, putting down what he saw in front of him on paper. I was impressed by how his eyes stayed mostly on the scenery, only dipping down occasionally to check on where his pencil was going; it occurred to me he must draw a lot to be so confident with his marks. 

"I won't be a minute," he murmured as he worked. I leaned forward, resting on the horn of my saddle as I waited for him. 

Truth be told we could stay there all day, I was more than happy admiring the way he worked. The way his large hand gripped the pencil with surprising sensitivity, his wrist moving in jerky motions as he blocked in areas of light and dark, the way he was completely absorbed in what he was doing to the point where I wouldn't dream of speaking to him at the risk of distracting him. I was thoroughly rapt by him in that moment, and the realisation that my little crush on him was only growing more intense came knocking. My instinct was to look away from him at that, but I didn't. 

By the time he was done the side of his hand was muckied with graphite from where he'd moved it across the paper, but he didn't seem to notice or mind as he lifted his journal, having a proper look at what he'd produced. He was good, the drawing he'd made stretched over two pages and it was lovely, and he'd done it so quickly. He flipped the page and wrote something down briefly, before closing up his journal and putting it away. With that, he picked up his reins and carried on. 

He just wasn't going to say something about that?

"You draw?" I said, stating the obvious. "From what I saw that was really good, Arthur."

"I like to keep a record of the things I see," he told me. "I wouldn't know if they really are any good, but I draw them for myself so I suppose it don't really matter."

"Well, I thought it was good," I shrugged. "Not that my opinion matters."

"Thanks," he said, looking over at me. He looked like he was waiting for something, I just looked back at him blankly until he chuckled. "I reckon you're one of the first people who ain't asked to look."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to ask?" Oops, was that incredibly rude of me?

"No," he shook his head. "I'm pleasantly surprised, is all."

"Oh, good. Well, I didn't ask because I know those things are sometimes personal, and in your case it clearly is. I used to draw, but I couldn't get two lines sketched before someone was looking over my shoulder. It embarrassed me, to be honest, so I haven't done it in a while." 

"You should start again. What did you like to draw?" 

"Would it sound terribly conceited if I said I drew myself a lot? I used to sit in front of the mirror in my mother's room and sketch myself. I liked drawing faces but my family didn't like it when I tried to draw them, told me to stop staring. So I just used myself as a model," I chuckled. 

"You wanna draw something now?" He offered.

"Right now?"

"Sure. I'll give you some paper, let you borrow my pencil. You can even draw me, if you like drawing faces. I don't mind, it'll give me an excuse to sit still for a while and do nothing," he laughed. 

"Oh, that's a lot of pressure, it'll be bad. I haven't picked up a pencil in ages."

"You don't have to show me," he reassured me. He said it so softly and with such understanding that I felt touched by it. I paused for a moment, then nodded. 

"Then, yes please. I'd enjoy that."


	15. Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re 15 chapters in; here’s a sprinkling of action… a very fine, stingy sprinkling. I did say this story was going to be slow burn lmao :’)

Arthur and I had sat ourselves down underneath a tree, he was leaning up against it and had taken his hat off to give me a good view of his face. I sat a few feet away in front of him, holding the paper he'd given me from his journal and a book about wildflowers and herbs that he'd given me to lean on. I observed him for a while as he settled, getting comfortable. He looked a little shy all of a sudden with my eyes on him, but he didn't say anything and just looked out towards where Rayna and Jet were grazing. 

When he was ready and seemed to have relaxed, I started sketching out some guidelines. I started with a light oval shape and a few lines to place his eyes, nose and mouth, then worked lightly as I started mapping out his features. I went over the same place a few times until I got the shapes as close as I could, slowly warming my wrist up and getting my artist's eyes back. When I drew for a while I would start to see things differently. Back when I'd draw myself the image in the mirror would turn into a collection of lines and shapes that could be more easily replicated than a face, but when I was drawing Arthur I could not lose his image. I was constantly reminded of who I was drawing; it required a little more effort and focus, but it was good practice. 

It certainly threw me back into the water when it came to drawing again. 

It was an interesting experience being able to really stare at him in a context where it was entirely appropriate to do so. I noticed things about him that I hadn't before; the scar on his chin, the dimple on the tip of his nose, the slight signs of his age in the form of creases around his eyes. All it served to do was make him even more attractive to me, and my hand would shake a little each time he met my eyes. 

My drawing certainly wasn't anything to write home about. I supposed you could tell that it was him but things were a little off; his eyes were definitely too big, his chin was too small, he was certainly better looking in the flesh, but it wasn't a terrible drawing. I worked on the shading, darkening the side of his face furthest from me where it was in shadow and put a little more detail into his eyes. Gosh, his eyes. I'd never be able to do them justice with a stick of graphite but I sure did enjoy trying. The longer I drew for, the more relaxed Arthur seemed to become and he kept his eyes on me more often than not. 

If felt strangely intimate, just sitting and drawing him, sharing eye contact as a breeze rolled through the grass. It was peaceful, too, with the sounds of tree branches rustling and songbirds flying overhead. It was lovely, really, and I found myself threatening to overwork my drawing simply so I could drag it out for longer. With a soft sigh I looked between Arthur and his graphite impression, pursing my lips. 

"I think I've worked on this all I can," I told him. "I guess it's okay, though it's not going to hang on anyone's wall."

"Did you enjoy making it?" He asked me and I nodded without hesitation.

"I really did," I grinned. 

"If you enjoyed it, that's all that matters," he said, putting his hat back on. 

"Thank you for sitting for me, you're an excellent model," I told him, resulting in a bashful chuckle. 

"If you say so."

I paused for a moment, looking down at my drawing and thinking about my next words. 

"Do you wanna see it?" I finally asked, nervous to see his reaction but wanting to share it all the same. 

"Really? I'd love to. Only if you're happy to share," he said. I turned the drawing around and tilted it towards him. Arthur looked at it, then moved away from the tree to scoot closer to me. 

Arthur studied the drawing for a moment, an unreadable expression on his face. 

"Wow, I ain't never seen a drawing of myself before," he noted, leaning in closer. With how I was holding the drawing it meant his head was above my lap, so close to me. "You did a good job, looks like me!"

"You think? I reckon I did you a little injustice," I snorted, flushing a little. 

"What'chu mean? Looks fine to me."

"You're better looking than that," I assured him and he glanced up at me. He only leaned back just a little when he noticed how close he was. He looked a little stunned, like he didn't know how to respond; so I saved him the trouble. "You got any tips for me?"

"Oh, I don't think it's my place. I'm hardly an expert," he said, looking back down at the drawing. 

"You're more skilled than I am, I'd say that makes you qualified enough. I'd appreciate the advice, since I'd like to draw more often," I said, watching Arthur run his thumb along his bottom lip. "Please?”

"Alright. I'm not really sure what to say, you've clearly got skill already but I guess if I was gonna give you some advice…” he trailed off and paused for just a moment. 

"I noticed as you were drawing, you tend to go over the same place over and over, I see what you're doing, I do it myself. You're feeling out the line," he pointed out the edge of his nose in the drawing as an example. "But you do it real quick every time, trying to get the line right in one quick stroke. Sometimes you gotta slow down a little, guide the pencil down slow as you look at what you're trying to draw. Either that or you do a series of shorter strokes, go in stages. Take a little pressure off yourself, take your time."

"Oh, I see what you mean," I nodded, turning the drawing to have a look at it myself. "That's definitely something I tend to do, the quick lines. It's sort of like I'm taking a stab in the dark and hoping it looks right," I laughed. 

"There's nothing wrong with it, it just might save you some hassle if you slow it down."

"Right," I agreed, absorbing his words. "Thank you, Arthur. Anything else?"

"Just keep at it," he shrugged his shoulders and looked up at me. "I'll keep my eye out for a sketchbook for you. Then maybe we can do this more often; come out and do some drawing together.”

"I'd really like that," I told him, failing to keep the grin from spreading across my face. Arthur was still so close, his eyes studied my face for a while, a certain warmth appearing in them.

"Yeah, me too," his voice was quiet and smooth, and he wasn't moving away. He was close enough for me to hear his breath and feel it too, and I was a little embarrassed to realise that must mean he'd notice my own breath pick up. 

Arthur licked his lips, glanced down at my mouth and a spike of hot, bright anticipation lit up my body. I was frozen still and yet he tilted his head and edged forwards. Something was about to happen, something that'd never happened to me and all I could do was sit there and panic on the inside. From my lips, his eyes moved back up to my eyes and he seemed to see something in them – probably the panic – because just like that, his head tilted back down to my drawing. He let out a breath, sort of like an awkward laugh mixed with a sigh, then he sat back to give me some space. 

_What? No! No, no, no!_

Had I imagined all of that? Was he actually just looking at a chunk of something stuck in my teeth? Probably. 

_Idiot._

"I'm sorry, I–” he started, pausing to take out the pocket watch I'd gifted him. "I should be heading towards Valentine, I reckon." 

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry to have kept you," I said, clearing my throat and holding out his pencil and book. He took them from me very carefully, like he was conscious of avoiding contact with my skin.

"Nonsense, this was nice," he told me, then rose to his feet. I stood up too, quickly, so that he wouldn't feel obligated to offer his hand to help me up. "I'm sorry we never got to find that oleander."

"It's okay, I'll probably stick around here and look for some, since I'm already here." 

"You sure? And you'll be okay on your own?" He queried and I gave him a look. He remembered he was speaking to _little miss lone wolf_ and chuckled. "That was dumb, I'm sorry."

I dismissed his concerns with a shake of my head. "Thank you for riding out with me, and for the paper and the art lesson."

"The pleasure's all mine, my lady," he dipped his head a little.

We stood facing each other for a few moments, not quite meeting each other's eyes. Something hung in the air and I was starting to think that perhaps I wasn't just imagining things; in which case, how disappointing that things hadn't unfolded in the way they seemed to have been going. He and I could've been rolling around in the grass together, his lips on mine, by now. 

"Uhh, anyway. I best be getting back to it. I'll see you back at camp," he eventually said, reaching out to give my upper arm a gentle squeeze and caress. I certainly didn't mind those little touches of his.

"Sure, see you later," I replied, my voice sounding much sadder than intended.

"You look after yourself, alright?"

"Will do. You too," I nodded. He gave me a little smile before slowly making his way over to the horses. He walked oddly, like he wasn't certain he was going in the direction he wanted; each foot being placed awkwardly and hesitantly. He turned and looked back at me as he went, and for lack of knowing what to do I gave him a silly wave, which he returned. 

He mounted Jet, giving me a final nod before setting off, leaving me to stand there watching him go… feeling like I wanted to punch something; preferably my own face. How could something have come so close and yet crumbled to dust so easily? Maybe if I had looked a little less terrified, maybe if I had leaned in too, maybe if I had said something when he looked back at me just then, maybe, maybe, maybe. 

With a quiet whine I stomped over to Rayna, putting my drawing of Arthur away in the saddlebag before mounting up. 

"How awkward did that look from over here, girl?" I whispered to her, patting her neck. She shook out her mane, and I wasn't sure what to make of that. 

With a wistful sigh I headed back to the trail, going in the opposite direction to Arthur to head towards Bayou Nwa, on a quest to find some oleander. 

-

When I rode back into camp that evening, saddlebags stocked with Charles' oleander, I noticed things looked sparse. Bedrolls were packed up, fires were out, some tents were already gone and others in the process of being pulled down. I dismounted my horse and jogged over to Dutch who was in his tent, speaking with Hosea. 

"What's happening, Dutch? Where's Arthur?" I asked him, worry creeping into my tone. Dutch looked up at me and sighed like I was an inconvenience, though perhaps that's all I was.

"Arthur has gone with Charles to scout out our new camp. We're moving."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Of course something happened, now, I ain't got time for this so you can either clear off on your nag, or stick around and help us! It's time for you to choose your loyalties, I don't care either way," he snapped at me, clearly extremely stressed out, before getting up and stomping past me. 

I watched him go with widened eyes before turning back to Hosea who had a sad look about him.

"Don't take it personally, my dear, he's had a lot on his plate as of late," he told me wearily. I glanced in Dutch's direction before meeting Hosea's eyes again. "Though, he has a point. If you're going to leave us, now's the time to do it. No one'll be counting heads."

"And no one'll miss me, huh?" I chuckled, not taking it to heart. Hosea gave me a look, one that said that wasn't what he meant and I knew it.

"You're more than welcome to come with us. You've been a hard worker, but it's entirely up to you. I won't try to convince you either way," he continued, speaking through a sigh before rising to his feet and moving past me.

"Thanks, Hosea," I spoke after him. He paused to look over his shoulder at me and we shared a look for a few moments, a comforting smile passed between us before he left. 

I took a deep breath and turned, marching towards Susan. 

"Miss Grimshaw? Point me towards someone who needs my help."


	16. Jemima Jones III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working with Micah and Javier on another job. A little something unexpected, and frankly unwelcome.  
> I just wanna say thank you for all the support you lovely people have given me on here, your comments keep me going!

I ended up helping Javier with taking down the rest of the tents and packing them away; he explained to me what had happened in Valentine, a huge shootout with Leviticus Cornwall and his men. I'd heard of that man, of course, one of the richest and most powerful men in the area; he practically owned half of Saint Denis. It was news to me, however, that the gang had issues with him, but I knew it wasn't good. Everyone was okay following the shootout, thankfully, but we had to leave quickly otherwise they wouldn't be. With everything on the wagons the group rode out, I was on the back of Rayna accompanying the convoy, riding alongside the wagon that Dutch was sat on. He seemed somewhat in a better mood once we were moving, and he even thanked me for sticking around, it seemed as though he wasn't expecting me to. 

We met with Charles along the way and he directed us to where we'd be staying. I found myself in Scarlett Meadows for the second time that day, and we settled at Clemens Point, out by the lake. The air was muggier here but I liked the place, it was nice being by the water. It was funny, being a little closer to my original home, too.

It took us a few days to get set up in our new camp, and over those days I spent more time with other members of the group, getting to know them better. I'd given Charles his oleander and he said he'd start working on my bow as soon as he could; I told him not to stress himself about it but he insisted he'd like to make it. I'd spent more time with Javier, helping him set back up the tents we'd taken down together at the old camp. I found him to be full of quiet wisdom, he told me about his revolutionary past, his journey to America, how he fell in with the gang when he had nothing. He told me how he'd fled Mexico to protect his loved ones from his actions; actions that he did not specify and I did not question. He'd clearly seen and dealt with a lot over the years but what stood out to me was the fact that he seemed so grateful for where he was now, and grateful to Dutch who had taken him in. I spent my time with him mostly listening rather than speaking.

I spent a little time with Strauss, he'd been injured in Valentine and was taking it easy, I'd check on him from time to time. He wasn't a young man, and though his wounds were far from fatal it struck me that he wasn't the type to get involved in the gunfire often, and the ordeal seemed to have shaken him quite a bit. He'd be fine, though. He went back to sitting at his little desk with his ledger in no time; in fact the whole camp fell back into its routine pretty quick. 

I hadn't had much to do with Arthur since we moved, we'd see each other around camp and he'd nod at me politely but always seemed preoccupied. We shared a few words in the mornings when we continued to wake early, meeting each other by Pearson's campfire. It became a little surprise every morning, seeing which one of us would be up first to make the coffee. It amused me enough to keep me rising early, though I doubted Arthur paid as much attention to it as I did.

Pearson began commenting on it. He was always the next person to wake up after us, and he joked about us putting him out of a job by brewing the coffee, but he seemed to appreciate it anyway. 

Still, I couldn't help feeling things were a little odd between Arthur and I since that day in Scarlett Meadows. He avoided eye contact more than I did, for a change, and he was always a little eager to excuse himself. It saddened me, not just because I had been hopeful of something blossoming between us but because I liked Arthur as a friend, too. I enjoyed his company and it hurt that things had changed. I wanted to bring it up, but I was also scared of making things worse. 

One morning, when Arthur rose earlier than me, I joined him by the fire and he'd already poured me my coffee. 

"Saw you getting up," he explained, handing me the mug. 

"Thanks," I smiled, hugging the mug with both hands. "Mornings around here are real pretty, ain't they?"

"Sure," he agreed with a nod, following my gaze to the lake which reflected the warm pinks of the sky as the sun rose. 

"Uhh, I was wondering,” I started, looking down. I felt him looking at me, waiting. "Maybe we could do something together today. Maybe go hunting again, or even just another ride for leisure, like last time."

Arthur was quiet for a long while, and it didn't seem like he was going to answer, so I looked at him. He was staring at me, his lips parted just slightly, looking frozen. I averted my eyes again, feeling embarrassed. 

"Maybe Charles is better suited to going hunting with you, he knows a lot more than I do," he finally said. He missed my point completely, or maybe he was purposely ignoring it.

"Well, it's more about–” I paused, sighing softly. "Feels like it's been a while since we saw each other outside of our morning coffee, we don't have to do nothing, I just thought we might… I enjoy our trips together, is all."

Arthur sighed, and I worried that all I was doing was annoying him. I opened my mouth to back track, but he spoke. He said my name, quiet and somewhat downhearted, "I enjoy them too, but I'm worried that spending too much time with you is gonna–" he stopped and pressed his lips together. 

I saw what was happening. He'd realised that I was getting a little too fond of him and now he was doing damage control, letting me down gently.

"I don't want you getting hurt; associated with me and punished for my actions."

"Okay," was all I said. I wanted to argue, tell him that his reasoning didn't make any sense considering I was in this gang now, I was part of it all. But I knew that it was just an excuse and me pushing it would only make him uncomfortable. 

"Okay?" He repeated, seeming surprised at my acceptance. I shrugged my shoulders. 

"If it's what'll make you comfortable, Arthur. I'm not gonna lasso you and force you to spend time with me," I explained.

"It's not that I don't want to it's that I… I shouldn't," he said, I looked him in the eye and watched him squirm under my gaze. His Adam's apple moved with his deep swallow and his eyes seemed to want to look away. 

"But you do a lot of things you shouldn't," I pointed out to him and he seemed taken aback for a second, then choked out a laugh.

"Well, here's me practising a little self restraint," he countered, shaking his head in amusement at me. I kept my expression neutral and refused to break eye contact.

"Don't hold back on my account," I said, sipping my coffee and licking my lips, noting the way his eyes flickered down to them. "It'd be a real shame if you and I never went out drawing together, like we said."

I knew I'd planned on not pushing him, but at the end of the day, I liked him. I didn't want to go on like strangers just because I'd developed a little crush on him. 

"We will," he finally nodded. "I'll keep my word on all that."

"I'm glad, I enjoyed that."

"I did too," he agreed, looking down into his coffee. 

We fell quiet again, and I wanted so badly to say something, maybe plead with him to forget about whatever made him change his mind about being friends. I couldn't say anything, though, I was too nervous. And just like the previous mornings we'd spent at Clemens Point, after finishing his coffee, Arthur went to leave. 

"Anyway, enjoy the rest of your morning," he said to me before walking away. 

I watched him cross the camp and mount his horse, leaving and only looking back at me once. 

-

Since moving camps – and since Arthur had spent less time with me – Micah had taken it upon himself to linger around me whenever he was free. He hadn't tried to touch me since I told him not to, though, so I couldn't complain. His company had been pleasant enough, he'd sit nearby and play with his knife while I got on with my chores and he'd ask me things about myself. I answered most of his questions, though dodged ones about my romantic history, telling him it wasn't his business. He laughed at that, agreeing with me and letting it be. I pretended not to notice the way other members of the camp looked at us, they never said anything but I knew they were weighing us up, trying to listen in and analyse what was happening between us. 

Later that morning, when the rest of the camp had risen, he and I were sitting by the fire while I repaired a hole in one of his shirts. I shot him a warning glance when he made a comment about me making a good wife for someone one day, and sewed the split seam back together for him just in time for Javier to find us. 

"Hey, you two doing anything today?" He asked. I handed Micah his shirt and looked at Javier, curiosity piquing. 

"Not really, just chores," I told him. 

"Well I guess it depends on what you're selling, you got a job for us?" Micah replied. 

"I think so. See, before we left Valentine I got talking with this guy in the saloon; said his brother stole something from him and he's keeping it in a lock box under his bed. Trouble is, he can't go anywhere near the place otherwise this guy'll shoot him on sight. Hates him," Javier explained. He pointed at the two of us. "You two worked pretty well together the other day, I heard."

"I reckon we did," Micah glanced at me and I gave a small nod of agreement. 

"Well, the guy offered me a lot of money to get it back for him, but I don't fancy my chances going in there without some sort of distraction. You wanna polish those wedding rings and help me out?" Half of his moustache lifted with his smirk. 

Micah and I shared a glance, but I was the first to respond. "Why'd you need two of us?"

"Well, I don't feel good about sending you in there alone, muñequita, this guy sounds like he can be a piece of work," he explained to me before glancing at Micah. "And I don't see how you'd manage to distract him by yourself without getting shot, no offense amigo, you're not the most likeable guy I've met."

"No offense taken," Micah said drily.

"But as a married couple, you think we have a chance?" I tried to have faith but I wasn't sold, and I raised a brow at him.

"Assholes like him wouldn't help a guy like Micah, and they might try to take advantage of a woman on her own…But what sort of monster wouldn't help a nice couple with a lady in a delicate condition?" Javier queried, lifting his hand and drawing attention to the blanket he was holding.

And that's how I found myself on a wagon on my way to some scary stranger's house with a balled up blanket under my skirt, under the instructions; _just don't say much and look queasy_. The house we were looking for was just outside of Valentine, far enough out that they weren't worried about it, based on what had gone down in the town before we left. Javier took the reins and I rode shotgun, Micah sitting in the back, and we rode out there as Javier explained some more. 

"This guy said he wants us to bring him the box unopened, and he'll pay a hundred dollars."

"A hundred dollars? What if there's something inside worth two hundred?" Micah questioned, sounding miffed. 

"And what if there's a bunch of sentimental shit in there that ain't worth jack to us? It's a gamble, I say we don't open it. We just get our money fair and square," Javier countered. I was with him.

"Yeah, at least if we don't open it we can say we're doing a good deed," I chuckled, my hands on my makeshift baby bump.

"There could be anything in there," Micah said.

"Yeah, there could be a gun, there could be photographs, a letter from a dead relative, or stacks of cash," I shrugged.

"The way this guy was talking, he seemed real depressed. Didn't sound to me like there was money in there," Javier shook his head. "Anyway, this is my job, Micah, we don't open it."

"Fine," he sighed. 

We stopped the wagon at the house and the boys climbed down, both coming around to offer a hand to me. It was Micah who got there first, and I took it, leaning back and struggling down slowly with my swollen belly, stretching my acting muscles. 

"This convincing?" I asked.

"Very," Javier laughed. "I'm gonna get out of sight, you two do your thing and keep him away from the bedroom. I'll be as quick as I can." 

Javier jogged away from Micah and I and we took a moment to prepare.

"If we happen to need names, you going by Jemima again?" 

"Sure. What about you?"

"Call me, uhhh, Robert," he nodded. "Alright, come on my sweet," he smirked, taking my hand and putting his other arm around the small of my back, guiding me up to the house like I was fit to collapse at any moment. I walked a little sluggishly, putting on a bit of a wince as we neared the door. I knocked, then breathed deeply as I waited. 

The door opened, a gun was cocked and pointed right at us and a man grumbled; "what'chu want?"

I would've been scared if the gun didn't immediately dodge me when the man noticed my 'condition'. He was an ugly bastard, as many teeth as a newborn and skin scaly and mottled with a layer of grime that looked like it'd been there for years. 

"Oh! I-I-I'm sorry sir, we don't mean you no trouble," Micah began, pulling me back and away from him. "We're just passing through and my... my wife here has taken a little queasy. Baby's due any day now."

"You ain't about to spit a sprog out on my porch, now?" The man grumbled, but he lowered his gun completely.

"Not yet," I shook my head. "Just morning sickness, I reckon."

"We was wondering if you'd mind doing a good deed, letting us take a couple minutes of your time. She'll be fine if she has a few minutes to sit down somewhere out of the sun, maybe drink some water? Can you help us out, partner?"

The man looked between us, a sour look in his slightly milky eyes. Eventually he sighed sharply and stepped aside, waving us in with the butt of his gun. "Alright. Jus' as long as you don't spew up in my house."

"Oh, I don't think I'm gonna. I'm just a little light headed, thank you kindly," I assured him, hobbling into the house. I looked around, getting an idea of the layout. 

Right in the front entrance there was a corridor, at the end of it I could see through a door to the end of a bed, I took it as that being where we had to keep him away from. To our left, there was a sitting room, which he led us into. The kitchen was accessed through a doorway at the far end of the room, out of view of the front door. If we kept him there, we'd be fine.

"Take a seat," the man said.

"Um, would you mind if I sat at the kitchen table instead? My back don't like those low down armchairs much," I said, and the guy shrugged indifferently as he walked through to the kitchen. The house was a little run down and grubby, with boarded up windows and holes in the floorboards.

Micah and I followed him and he helped me down into a chair at the table, then took a seat next to me. He didn't let go of my hand, cupping it between both of his own. The homeowner poured a cup of water from a tin jug and brought it over to me, placing it down on the table in front of me before crossing his arms, just standing there and watching me like a hawk. I peered down into the cup before drinking, relieved that it seemed pretty clean, but I only took a small sip. 

It was unbearably quiet, and I knew we needed some noise to give Javier a fighting chance. I leaned forwards and groaned, leaning my head into my free hand. Micah moved in close, reaching a hand to my back, rubbing gently. 

"Oh, angel, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?" He crooned. I shook my head. 

"I'll be fine. It's just my back and- and my hips, they hurt so bad," I told him. Micah made a humming sound and got up, coming to stand behind me. He started massaging my back for me, pressing his thumbs into my muscles and rubbing circles. It was… surprisingly good. 

"I'm proud of you, darling. Child-bearing; ain't it a beautiful thing, sir?" He expressed with adoration that verged on unbelievable. I thought that he should rein it in a little. 

"Uhh, sure," the guy replied, and I didn't have to look at him to know that he was completely disinterested. 

"You got any kids, sir?" Micah asked, moving lower down to the middle of my back. He kneaded my back with the heels of his hands and I let out a soothing breath. As slimy as the man could be, he knew how to give a massage. 

"What do you think?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking."

"No, I ain't got no kids."

"Oh, well we've got three at home with the nanny, ain't we, my dear?" Micah leaned over my shoulder, looking at my face. I gave him a look. 

"Three? How old's your woman?" The man scoffed in mild disbelief. 

"Ohh, we started young," Micah smirked, taking my chin in his hand and tilting my head towards him. My eyes widened as he looked at me real close up. "Didn't plan a single one of 'em, but we wouldn't have it any other way."

I wasn't expecting it when he leaned in, it was why I didn't dodge it when he pressed his lips against mine. It was also why I jolted back, flinging my hand out to shove him away; it didn't matter though, the damage had already been done. I was so focused on the fact that Micah had just kissed me that it took me a few moments to register the look on his face, the shock of it, and to remember that we were meant to be married. I scrambled for an excuse. 

"I…I've been throwing up all morning, you really wanna kiss me now?" I stammered, my cheeks burning hot red, my heart thumping, hands shaking, everything in me buzzing. I had all the feelings I expected from a kiss but they didn't feel good, not with Micah. I just felt angry.

"In sickness and in health, angel. I don't care," Micah said, chuckling uneasily before patting my arm and sitting back down. He cleared his throat before carrying on talking, saying something to the man, but I wasn't listening to any of it. 

For the rest of my time there I kept my eyes focused on the table, thinking of Arthur and how close he'd been the other day. How much different I felt about that moment and that would-be kiss. How if he had followed through with it I might not be feeling as bad as I was right then. 

At some point, Micah decided we'd stayed long enough and grabbed my arm, helping me up from the chair. He asked me how I was feeling, all concerned and loving and I merely nodded in response, happy to get out of there as quickly as possible. Micah thanked the man for his hospitality and walked me through the house and out the door, insisting that he needn't see us off. We'd already taken up plenty of his time.

Walking towards our wagon I noticed that Javier was already waiting for us. Micah nudged my side. "What the hell happened in there? Shoving at me like that."

"You kissed me," I murmured, not looking at him.

"Well yeah, Mrs. Bell," he grumbled, speaking it like a question. 

"I never said that was okay," I hissed, looking up only to scowl.

"Alright then, I'm sorry!" He spat back. 

We reached the wagon and I ignored Micah's outstretched hand and climbed on without his help. Javier looked between us, instantly feeling the tension. He whipped the reins, getting us out of there. 

"Did you get the thing?" I asked Javier, my arms crossed firmly over my chest, face like a slapped ass no doubt. 

"Of course, how'd it go at your end? You don't seem too happy," he replied, then glanced over his shoulder at Micah. 

"She's got her knickers in a twist because I played my role as her husband too well," Micah answered for me in a sneer of a tone.

"He kissed me without askin' first," I clarified. 

"And I apologised!"

"It's not enough," I muttered.

"Hey, alright, it was just a kiss?" Javier cocked a brow and I frowned at him. 

"Just a kiss," I repeated. "Maybe to some, but it was my–" I stopped myself, shaking my head and turning back to face forward. 

"It was what?" Micah asked. 

"Ohhh mierda, you fucked up, man," Javier told Micah, putting two and two together before him. 

"I apologised!" He emphasised. 

"Dumbass, you ain't worked it out? She's never kissed no one before," Javier explained. "You took that from her, I'd be pissed too if you were my first kiss," he snorted, but he didn't seem all that amused. 

Micah was silent for a little while, but eventually he sighed and grumbled; "how was I supposed to know?" 

"Whatever, it's done now," I said, and we all rode back to Clemens Point in silence.


	17. Burn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason I’ve been really nervous about posting this part?? It’s the part we’ve all been waiting for. The slow burn is finally burning, y’all. I really hope you like how I handled it, let me know if you did :)

"You okay?" Javier asked me quietly when we made it back to camp. I looked at him and saw a look of compassion on his face. I was taken aback by how much he seemed to care, he wasn't just brushing it off like I imagined most would. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Thank you," I replied, then got down off the wagon. I turned towards the wagon to hide myself as I swiftly reached under my skirt to pull out the balled up blanket as the two men joined me. Micah kept his distance, his hands buried in his pockets. 

"I'll meet that guy again in Valentine on my own, less risky with just one of us. I'll give you both your cut as soon as I can. Good work, both of you, thanks for helping me out," Javier said, patting us both on the shoulder. 

"Thanks for entrusting me to join you," I said and he smiled at me before leaving us alone. I immediately turned to leave too, half expecting Micah to try and talk to me after. He didn't, thankfully. 

-

When the evening came around and the sun was beginning to set, I sat myself down at the end of a little jetty facing out over the lake. I was sitting with a bottle of beer that I was drinking slowly, making it last all evening. I'd taken my boots off and hitched up my skirt, letting my feet become submerged in the water, and was enjoying some much appreciated solitude. There were only a couple of people I would be happy to be interrupted by at that moment, Micah wasn't exactly one of them, but it didn't stop him from walking up behind me and calling my name. With a sigh, I turned to look at him.

He was standing there with a bunch of wildflowers in his hand, wearing an awkward smile. It was funny, seeing a smile on his face that wasn't some smarmy smirk.

"Peace offering," he said, walking down the jetty towards me. He'd removed his hat and tucked his chin length hair behind his ears, looking a little less threatening than he usually did. "You know, I'm real sorry. I just got carried away tryin'a make it look convincing."

He handed me the flowers and I inspected them, in the bunch there was a mixture of greenery, pretty little flowers, and straight up weeds. I pursed my lips and said, "some of these are weeds, you know that, right?"

He edged forwards a bit, looking into the bunch, "uhh, but they're pretty weeds," he said, though it sounded like a question.

I snickered, then picked up a discarded food tin from nearby and scooped some water from the lake, putting the flowers in there. "Thanks," I told him. 

"I wouldn't've… if I knew," Micah said, eyes capturing something off in the distance just as I heard it. I spotted Dutch, Hosea and Arthur on a boat heading for the camp; they seemed to be in high spirits, singing a jolly song. I looked back up at Micah. 

"Water under a bridge," I shrugged, splashing my feet in the water to illustrate my point.

"Good. Maybe sometime I can take you out somewhere, who knows? You might even end up liking me enough that you won't be so mad about it," he smirked and I sighed, looking back over to where Arthur and the others were getting off the boat. He looked over at me, spotting me speaking to Micah.

"Don't push it," I said and shook my head. 

"Fair enough. If you change your mind," he trailed off, shrugging. "You want some company down here?"

"No, I'm good."

"Alright, I'll get out of your hair. Enjoy the sunset," he said, then turned to leave. When he was a little way away from me I heard him speak again. "She don't want company, Morgan," it was hissed with poison and I turned to see him up in Arthur's face, who simply stood there unmoving, not responding, until Micah had no reason not to just walk away. 

When Micah was gone, Arthur and I caught each others' eyes. After a moment, I jerked my head, signalling for him to come over. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth and he approached, then he spotted the flowers by my side and it fell just a touch. 

"He give those to you?" He pointed at them as he joined me on the jetty. I nodded. "I told you he'd try it on with you."

"It's not like that. Well, not exactly… he was apologising for something," I told him. Arthur sat down next to me, knees bent and his elbows resting on them. 

"What's he done now?" He sighed. 

"Don't worry about it. He got carried away when we were playing happy families for a job with Javier," I waved my hand and shook my head, trying to be dismissive. 

"Carried away how?"

"He was playing my husband again. He… he just gave me a little kiss."

Arthur tutted. "Dirty bastard, taking advantage of the situation I bet. I'm surprised he even apologised."

"Yeah, well, I went all stroppy about it 'cause it was the first time anyone's ever done it," I sighed, shrugging.

"What? First time anyone's ever kissed you?" His eyes widened and he tensed up, obviously taking it much more seriously with the new information. "Oh… I'm sorry, princess," he said and I gasped a little at the nickname, not expecting it at all. That made me feel funny, in a good way, like my insides were doing a jig.

Arthur frowned and looked down, turning pensive and quiet. After a moment, he glanced behind him into camp then asked; "will you take a walk with me?"

"Of course," I nodded, pulling my feet out of the water and patting them dry with the bottom of my skirt before putting my socks and boots back on as he stood. He offered his hand to help me up, and I gladly took it. 

We walked back down the jetty and stepped off, and Arthur led me down the edge of the lake, following it around and away from the rest of the camp. He walked slowly, but still a little ahead of me, and he didn't take his eyes off the ground. I chewed the inside of my cheek, my mind filling with anxious thoughts; he was acting strange again. 

"So what have you been doing today?" I asked to fill in the quiet. 

"Arresting someone. And fishing," he chuckled, though it wasn't as loose as his laughter usually was. "Me, Dutch and Hosea caught a few big ones. Should make a good supper."

"Uh, arresting someone?" I cocked a brow, honing in on the part he breezed over. He glanced at me.

"Yeah, found ourselves helping the local law to get one of our idiots out of trouble, feller named Trelawny," he explained. "I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough."

"So it's not all robbing banks and trains with you folk," I chuckled. Arthur laughed too and shook his head, then he let out a sigh and looked at me.

"Listen, I wanted to speak to you about– I weren't planning on saying anything but I feel I should, now," he started, keeping his sincere eyes on mine. My pulse immediately quickened; whenever someone said they wanted to speak with me, it made me nervous. 

"Alright, what's up?" I replied as casually as I could.

"When I found out Micah kissed you, took your first, I couldn't help thinking about the other day," he told me, looking down at the ground, continuing to walk but slowing down. "When we were up this way, sitting together," he said, sounding like he was waiting for my affirmation. 

"Yeah, when I was drawing you."

"Well I– you see, I very nearly kissed you," he admitted, though it seemed difficult for him to do so. "And I stopped myself. Realised how selfish I was being when I saw the look on your face, you looked so nervous." 

My heart was pounding and I stopped walking, Arthur following suit. Well there you have it, I hadn't been imagining things after all. 

"It makes sense that you seemed frozen, now, knowing I could've been doing no better than Micah, taking something you couldn't get back. Now I'm glad that I came to my senses, I just wanted to apologise, I'm sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable," he told me dejectedly, shamefully. My lips parted and I just stared at the side of his face in disbelief. 

I had been quiet for too long and when I finally spoke I tripped over my words a number of times before spitting out; "did I back away? Or push you off?" 

Arthur frowned and looked at me. "No," he said, confused, like he thought I just needed reminding, not that I was making a point.

"I did with Micah," I said, hoping he'd pick up my meaning. "I wouldn't just sit there and let someone kiss me if I didn't want them to."

"What exactly are you saying?" He asked, turning to face me head on.

"I'm saying I looked nervous 'cause you was about to kiss me, first time anyone ever had. That's normal, ain't it? It weren't 'cause I didn't want you to," I explained, stepping closer to him, hope blossoming in my stomach. "When you didn't I was… disappointed, frustrated, embarrassed. I thought I'd imagined it!"

"No," he shook his head, looking completely dumbstruck. 

"'Cause you've been acting funny since, like you don't wanna be near me," I continued, frowning to myself and looking down at his chest. "I figured you'd picked up on the fact that I'm a little sweet on you and you were trying to fix it."

"It ain't like that at all," Arthur shook his head, reaching out, hands settling on my upper arms. "Quite the opposite. I took it I was starting to make your stomach turn, you're a sweet girl and you were being real kind to me. You're sweet on me?"

The man looked so surprised, in utter disbelief. I nodded at him energetically, willing him to believe me.

"Why're you interested in me? I'm an ugly old bastard who robs and kills for a living!" He exclaimed and I shook my head at him, shooting him a disapproving look.

"How can you think you'd make my stomach turn?” I countered. "I've said plenty of times I think you're handsome, I weren't blowing smoke. And all those things I said in Blackwater!" I shook my head, laughing to myself.

"You were drunk in Blackwater, and like I said, you're real kind. I reckoned you just took pity on me," he huffed out a laugh and I tilted my head in disapproval. He dismissed his own words in exchange for his next ones. "There was the whole thing with Mary, to top it all off, I thought; she's gonna think I'm just tender over all that and I'm moving in on her to make myself feel better. It weren't that, that was just bad timing."

"I never thought that. And anyway, I thought I was being real obvious about my feelings, blushing like a schoolgirl every five minutes and waking up early so I can see you for coffee. I _am_ obvious, I've had three people point it out to me! I've been feeling so silly, thinking you wouldn't ever look twice 'cause I couldn't hold a candle to Mary," I flushed, a little out of breath from the flood of truths I was laying down.

"Mary," he sighed her name as he shook his head, eyes locked on mine and not going anywhere. "I assure you, she ain't got no place in any of this."

"I'm struggling to wrap my head around all this," I admitted.

"Past couple of weeks, I've been thinking of you a lot. Spending time with you has been way more enjoyable than it should be, I didn't want to face it, but," he paused, frowning to himself. "I thought you was real pretty when I saw you in the saloon. And that was when you could barely string a sentence together, imagine what I think now," he confessed, reaching a hand up to touch my cheek briefly before his hand dropped to my shoulder. 

Momentarily touched by his words, I soon felt my face twist up when I pictured myself that night. "Real pretty?" I cocked a brow, really not buying what he was selling. "You're flattering me. I was a sorry state."

Arthur laughed, "You still had me lookin' twice. I found you intriguing. A lady in a nice dress with a rifle strapped to her back and a pistol at her hip, drinking like a fish and taking no notice when the whole place starts descending into chaos," he shook his head, amused at the memory. 

"In other words, I was stupid."

"Stupid drunk, maybe," he snorted.

"It's all still so embarrassing to me," I dodged my gaze downwards. "I went from being rude to throwing myself at you within five minutes."

"You never threw yourself at me. You said some stuff but I figured if I tried calling your bluff you might've punched me, or at least tried to. Now I know you a little better, that still stands."

"That all that stopped you?" 

"No. You were drunk, wouldn't've been fair. And it don't matter how pretty I thought you were, I never wanted to; one night stands're good for no one. I learned the consequences the hard way a long time ago." He frowned, turning serious. My mind reeled at all the things that could mean, but it didn't look like he wanted to explain, so I didn't push. 

"How could you think I wasn't completely taken by you? This whole time I thought you knew and were just being polite," I questioned, my hands folding up in front of my chest, wringing together nervously.

"I've been thinking somethin' pretty damn similar," he laughed.

"Oh, I wish it'd been you," I whined softly, peering up at him, letting my hands move to his chest. They fidgeted a little before settling there, it was strange touching him like that. Surreal.

"What?"

"Who kissed me first," I explained. His lips parted and he went quiet, not knowing what to say. I was pleading with him in my mind to take the damn hint, I wanted it so badly, my whole body humming with adrenaline and anticipation. I needed something, I was starved, and Arthur looked so good with the sun setting behind him.

He didn't seem to be doing anything any time soon, so I took the initiative. I went up on my tiptoes and dipped my head to the side; not quite ready to initiate a kiss on the lips – frankly, I didn't know what I was doing! – I pressed my lips to his cheek. When I pulled back, Arthur looked flushed but was still without any words or actions. 

After a moment, he released a breath then slid his hands down my arms and took my hands in his, squeezing them before planting a kiss on my knuckles. He kept his eyes on my hands as he found his words. 

"I weren't telling you this with the hope that you'd react like this; I only wanted to apologise. Now I've gone and encouraged something I know is a bad idea," he murmured, so quietly I almost couldn't hear him.

"Arthur," I shook my head. 

"You're precious. God knows I'd love to kiss you right now, but I shouldn't. I'm not a good man, you don't know the half of what I do and it'd be wrong of me to get so involved with you."

I sighed and pulled my hands away from his and turned away, feeling a sense of crushing disappointment. It soon turned to determination, though, and I spun back around to face him.

"No, I'm not letting you say those things. If you truly mean it when you say you'd love to kiss me, then do it. Don't hold back in the name of… protecting me, or whatever it is you think you'd be doing by not _getting involved_ with me," I told him, shaking my head and marching back over to him. Looking down at me with a very faint smile, Arthur seemed surprised at my reaction.

"Damn it, I've waited too long to feel _something_ about _someone!_ My whole life I've wondered what it'd be like to fall in love, or at least to grow so fond of someone that I actually _wanted_ them to kiss me. Don't keep this from me, if you don't truly want to," I continued, crossing my arms over my chest and frowning at him. "I mean, unless you're just being kind, and kissing me's the last thing you wanna do. In that case, just say so!"

Arthur shook his head, making up his mind as he moved forward, reaching his hand out to cup my cheek. I didn't have time to process the fact that he was actually doing it so I let out a mousy little squeak when his lips connected with mine. The kiss was short-lived, and a little awkward considering I went as stiff as a board and did absolutely nothing to reciprocate. When Arthur pulled back, he had something close to concern on his face. 

"Oh!" I said, my eyes wide and my breathing laboured. "I'm sorry, I wasn't prepared for that."

"Considering the topic of conversation, I didn't think I'd be taking you by surprise," he laughed, making me flush with embarrassment. 

"Can we try that again? I apologise in advance if I'm terrible," I peeped, and he slid his hand to my chin, running his thumb along my bottom lip. 

"Just relax. You really do worry too much," he whispered, leaning in again. This time, I took his advice and loosened my shoulders, bringing my hands to his waist as he kissed me. This one lasted longer, his mouth moving against mine slowly, rhythmically, sweetly. I followed his lead, mimicking him and experimenting too, reminding myself to breathe when I started running out of air. 

An involuntary sound escaped me and I found myself pushing up closer to him, getting carried away with the sensations of kissing him that I very quickly decided were extremely pleasant. His hand moved to cup the back of my head and he tilted it, going the opposite direction with his own. His other hand slid from the middle of my back down lower, stopping just above my backside; but it was close enough that I bowed into him, not used to being touched anywhere near there. Arthur groaned tenuously, barely audible, but hearing that sound coming from him because of something I was doing made me weaken. I was made very aware of a throbbing between my legs that I'd only ever felt in the privacy of my room (or tent) when left to my own devices. 

I was panting when his lips moved away from mine, skipping down my jawline and to my neck, his hand keeping my head tilted to give him access. I shuddered, releasing another sound, but the lower he moved the more sensitive I was and I completely ruined the moment by flinching and sputtering out a laugh. My shoulder lifted involuntarily, cutting off his access and when he pulled back, Arthur looked amused.

"Ticklish?" He asked. I nodded my head, going shy at the gravelly quality of his voice. He smiled at me and breathed out a laugh, he seemed as breathless as I was. The sun was dipping below the horizon and it was getting darker, but I could still see his expression soften when I cupped his face in my hands.

He let out a breath and closed his eyes. "It's been a long time since I've been touched like this," he told me in a whisper. 

"I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am," I said. Arthur made a humming noise and nodded his head slowly. 

"This is the best I've felt in a while."

"I don't wanna stop," I whispered, and Arthur opened his eyes. He took my hands in his and glanced over my shoulder towards a group of trees, then quickly led me over to them. He spun me around and backed me up against the trunk of the thickest tree there, keeping hold of both of my hands as he kissed me once again. 

The grip of our hands shifted, twisting and interlocking our fingers. Arthur's hands were a lot larger than mine and my fingers had to stretch wide to accommodate his, but he was ever so gentle, his thumb stroking up the side of my hand. He broke the kiss to move his lips to my hand, drawing a line with them down the back of it to my wrist. I wrestled my other hand free so that I could touch him, bravely exploring his chest over his striped shirt. My fingertips slid under his suspenders, moving downwards, stopping when I got to just above his pants and Arthur let out a guttural sound. It seemed involuntary and his muscles flexed, jolting his hips forwards a little. 

"I'm sorry," I breathed, not expecting such a response. I figured I'd found a ticklish spot too, but Arthur made a soft moan and shook his head. 

"No, I'm sorry. It really has been a while and I'm–” he didn't finish his sentence, chuckling bashfully instead. "If we don't stop, I'm gonna get carried away. But I don't _want_ to stop."

"Arthur," I breathed, sliding my hand back up his body to around the back of his neck. My heart was pounding and the space between my legs tingled with the rhythm of it, pulses of pleasure coming in waves, I'd never felt so worked up in all my life.

I pulled him close, not for a kiss, just a hug. He wrapped his arms around me tightly, completely encasing me in them and making me feel so warm and at home. I buried my face in his neck and we stood there like that for some time, only the sound of our slightly laboured breaths between us. I wondered if it was normal to feel like this from simply kissing a person, or if I was just highly sensitised from everything being so new to me. 

"I think we should keep things quiet, see where this goes," he whispered against my temple. I agreed, wanting to keep this as private and between us as possible, for now. I wanted time to enjoy it just with him, without the input from anyone else.

"Promise me you aren't going to back track on this tomorrow and go back to convincing yourself that you shouldn't be doing this and that," I pleaded, and with a deep chuckle that I felt reverberate through my chest he responded.

"I don't think I could bring myself to back track anything, not after being this close, seeing this side of you."

"Thank God," I sighed, then pressed a kiss to his neck.

"Just tell me if I ever indulge myself too much and things go too fast for you," he said, loosening his grip and moving back so he could look at me. 

"I will," I nodded. He kissed my forehead. 

"We should go back before people start wondering where we've got to," he said, sounding just as disappointed as I felt, but I nodded in agreement and we started heading back. I knew he was right, I didn't doubt that someone had seen us walking together, and spending too much time away might raise some questions. 

Not only that, I knew that if we carried on – with how much his kisses set me off – I would end up begging Arthur to take something I realistically wasn't quite ready to give, in the heat of the moment. A first proper kiss is one thing… the other big milestone would wait a little longer.


	18. The Course Of True Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Catching up with Beau and Penelope. This chapter is rated mature for some suggestive content.

Pearson had cooked up the fish the boys had caught by the time Arthur and I went back to camp. Nobody seemed to notice anything was different, not that they would, but it was surreal surrounding myself with all those people, having meaningless small talk while all the time my heart and mind was buzzing. Arthur sat by my side around the campfire for the remainder of the evening, through dinner and through the gradual dispersal of the gang members as they retired to their respective bedrolls. 

It seemed so funny to me, to sit next to him and join in on conversations about how tasty the fish was, and how nice it was to eat something other than venison, and how much muggier the air was here compared to near Valentine. When mere hours ago we'd been making out with each other, completely alone and exploring each other for the first time in such a new, wonderful way. It never left my mind, keeping my body up a few degrees higher than usual and making me smile for no apparent reason, as far as anyone else was concerned. When asked about it by John, I just told him I was happy to be settled in at the new camp. It wasn't a lie, really; just not the entire truth. 

The night wound down and it was the latest I'd stayed up, Arthur and I still sitting side by side around the campfire, opposite Javier who was playing his guitar, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Micah was still up, though he wasn't anywhere near us, choosing to sit leaning up against the big tree in the middle of the camp whittling a piece of wood by lantern light. He'd been keeping his distance since Jack had come over to ask him what he'd done with the flowers he asked him to pick. I'd cocked a brow at him, but it really didn't shock me. Micah didn't strike me as the type to go out picking flowers himself.

Nobody was speaking, we were just enjoying the peace of the night-time ambience by Flat Iron Lake; crickets, frogs, the occasional hooing of a distant owl, and of course Javier's peaceful tune. I wanted to tell him how much I appreciated his music, because it definitely helped me sleep since he would often still be playing whenever I went to bed, but I felt it might disturb the atmosphere so I kept quiet.

Arthur and I would likely have gone to sleep hours ago, but I got the sense that neither one of us wanted to move. Well, I knew that I certainly didn't. I was exhausted, but sitting shoulder to shoulder with Arthur, leaning up against a log with our legs stretched out long, I was reluctant to leave. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, my backside kept going a little numb against the hard ground, but it was warm by the fire and I wanted to be with him. I was still thinking about our kiss, wanting more than anything to do it again but I wouldn't have dreamt of bringing that kind of attention to us at the camp; even if it was just Javier and Micah around to witness it. I was content just feeling his arm and side pressed against mine, even that gave me a giddy feeling in my tummy. 

We fell asleep like that, sitting next to each other, though of course I didn't know anything about it until morning when we were woken up by Pearson. He found it amusing, and to my surprise he didn't seem to think anything of it. I woke up at the sound of his chuckle, then Arthur jolted awake when Pearson kicked his foot. My neck was sore and I groaned as I lifted my head from Arthur's shoulder. 

"I beat you two this morning, you been here all night? I thought waking you'd be the kindest thing, twisting your necks like that. Coffee's ready," he told us, walking back over to his station. 

I felt groggy and stiff and gingerly rolled my neck a couple of times before looking up at Arthur who'd sat forwards and was rubbing at his eyes. I smiled a little, my mind clearing up as I realised where I was. 

"Good morning," I said to him, watching him lift his head to look at me and give me a sleepy smile. I reached out and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, my hand lingering a moment too long before I let go and stood up. "I'll grab us some coffee."

"Meet you down by the lake?" He suggested, looking up at me from his spot on the floor. I noted a look in his eyes, something hopeful and bright behind the tiredness. I grinned, nodding before heading off. 

I filled two cups with fresh coffee and headed down towards the water's edge, spotting Arthur sitting at the end of the jetty, where I had been the previous evening. I joined him there, handing him his cup before sitting down cross-legged beside him. It was a little cooler that day, the sky white with light clouds, a breeze coming off the lake, but it wasn't by any means cold. I watched a group of ducks nearby as we sat quietly; I liked that about Arthur, he wasn't one for forced chit-chat. He was happy to sit in silence, as was I. Though, I didn't mind at all when he broke it. 

"Your neck as stiff as mine?" He suddenly asked, a small wince on his face as he turned to me. I chuckled a little. 

"Yes. I don't even remember falling asleep," I said, and Arthur shook his head.

"Me neither. Though I do remember feeling toasty warm and not wanting to move, that probably had something to do with it."

"Mhm, I was more than content to stay by your side," I admitted, watching his eyebrows jump a little in surprise. 

"Really? Oh, well I'm glad it wasn't just my company boring you to sleep," he joked, swaying his body towards mine to bump against my shoulder. 

"'Course not," I smirked. "You were a comfy pillow."

"You're used to sleeping on the ground, I'll take that with a pinch of salt," he chuckled. 

"Arthur, are you heading out to find out more about the Grays today?" Dutch's voice startled us both, and we turned to watch him strolling down the edge of the lake towards us, coffee in one hand, a cigar in the other. Molly was with him, loyally standing by his side like she did so often. She was one member of the camp I had barely spoken to.

"I was planning on it, yeah, unless you got something else?" Arthur replied, leaning back to look past me at Dutch, his hand coming down to hold himself up behind me, his body easing closer to mine in one of those ways that was entirely innocent yet set my pulse racing. 

"You go do that, but I'd like you to meet me at the sheriff's office again some time, I reckon we should get a little more acquainted with him," he said, a smile forming on his face that was just slightly unsettling. I did not know what to make of Dutch Van Der Linde. 

I heard Arthur let out a breath behind me, not loud enough for anyone else to hear. "Sure. But I don't know why you think–"

"Hiding in plain sight, Arthur. Like I said," Dutch said, then turned to leave before Arthur had a chance to respond. 

I caught Molly's eye before she left too, and offered her a smile; the one she returned was friendly, though a little tense. I knew she and Dutch had been arguing, they certainly didn't make much of a secret of it when they yelled at each other across the camp. I never said anything or asked anyone, though, it wasn't my business. Molly tended to isolate herself away from the other girls, spending a lot of time in Dutch's tent. I told myself then and there that I would avoid doing that if this thing that Arthur and I had began went any further, I enjoyed the company of the girls far too much to cut myself off from them. It was plain for me to see that Molly was completely smitten with Dutch, though, so I could hardly blame her.

Arthur sighed again, breaking me from my thoughts. I turned to him, concerned. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I guess. It's jus' Dutch wanting to get into bed with the local law, I can't understand it," he told me under his breath. 

"I'm no one to talk on this subject but I will admit, it does seem rather strange given why we're here," I shrugged and Arthur nodded at me, giving me a look.

"Don't take a genius. You've been here just a few weeks and you can see that, but I suppose I should trust that Dutch knows what he's doing. He's got us out of a hell of a lot of sticky situations, I don't always understand his methods but we seem to fall on our feet," he acquiesced, finalising the topic before looking up at me. 

"So I guess I'm paying the Grays a visit today."

The name hadn't triggered much before, but when I remembered where we were, my brows raised. "Oh, the Grays! I know of them."

"You do?"

"Yeah. I worked for them a little when I was staying out here last. They had a vermin problem, paid me to shoot rats in their stables," I explained, and Arthur just stared at me for a moment, cogs turning in his head.

"You particularly close to 'em?" He asked. It would've been an odd question if I didn't know the Van Der Linde gang well enough to realise they were probably planning on robbing them blind. 

"No. I was most friendly with the sheriff's nephew, Beau, he kept me company sometimes, out in the stables. If you're worried I'm gonna try and stop you folk from doing what you need to do, I won't. That whole family, besides Beau, is awful. I reckon even he'd hesitate to stop you from screwing 'em over," I laughed.

"Awful, how?" Arthur raised a brow, curious. 

"According to Beau, they're violent, greedy, stupid and intolerant. I only met a few of 'em but the ones I did meet weren't all that nice to me; perverted," I shook my head as I recalled it. "One of his cousins got mighty friendly with me, he was nice at first but it got real creepy."

Arthur cocked his head, frowning a little. It prompted me to explain. 

"He'd hang around when Beau weren't there. Ask me a bunch of weird stuff, kept telling me I could take my shoes off if I wanted," I snorted. "Out in the stables, like I'm gonna."

"Okay…" Arthur squinted and drawled the word slowly. 

"He offered to fill me a bath one day. Like an idiot I jumped at the chance, I rarely got to take hot baths, I'm sure you understand. I washed in rivers and lakes, mostly, a hot bath in a house sounded too good to pass up. But the whole damn time I swear I could hear him outside the door, just waiting there, probably watching through the cracks or… something," I shuddered, shaking my head. 

"That's…" he trailed off, seemingly stumped at how to respond. 

"He never tried anything; never touched me or nothing," I shook my head. "I think he just like watching me."

"Well I'm glad it never went further than that," Arthur said. 

"I have a lot of stories like that. I tend to attract a certain brand of gentleman, it seems. And I wonder why I've never been interested in romance," I laughed, then looked at him and put my hand on his knee. "'til now, of course."

"Just tell me if I get creepy," he laughed. 

"You're far from creepy," I assured him with a smirk. "Anyway, you want me to come with you to the Gray's?"

"You think that's a good idea?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind seeing Beau again, and they know me there so you'll get in easier," I explained, and Arthur nodded in understanding.

"That's a good point."

"Then it's settled," I smiled. 

-

I took a bath in the lake in a secluded area a short distance from camp before we left, and my hair was still damp when I mounted up with Arthur, I left it down and it occurred to me that he had never seen me that way. He took a double take when he saw me, but waited until we were away from the camp to tell me that I looked pretty with my hair down – not that I didn't look pretty otherwise, he was hasty to add – and his words made me blush something fierce. 

Beau seemed surprised to see me, after all, it had been a long time and he knew my lifestyle; that I moved around an awful lot. He also seemed pleased, however, welcoming me with a firm squeeze of my hand and an array of questions about how I'd been keeping. Beau was always very fanciful and unrestrained with his words, babbling on and at times barely letting anyone else get a word in. But he was an easy conversationalist because of that, it was easy to get him talking and give yourself the chance to just sit and listen without having to say much yourself. 

Especially when Penelope was mentioned. After introducing Arthur as a good friend of mine, I asked him how she was doing, and watched his whole demeanour shift into something hopelessly enraptured. The man was completely devoted. 

"Oh, she is as usual trapped by that god-awful family of hers, as am I. Seeing her is getting harder and harder, they've got guards all over and she can't leave the place without being interrogated," he was saying, glancing around as he did. 

"But you're still together? That's a testament to your commitment to one another, that says to me that you'll find a way," I offered, watching his face soften into a hopeful smile. 

"How I wish you are right," he sighed. 

"Why don't you pair just flee?" Arthur questioned.

"Well, between you and I, that is the plan. Eventually," he told us, peeking around the edge of the storage building we were behind before coming back and pulling out a letter. "Would you be so kind as to… to do me a small favour?"

Arthur and I shared a look. 

"I will pay you for your troubles. Would you deliver this letter to her? She likes to spend time out in the gazebo by the lake over there. I have this bracelet for her, too,” he held a small box out along with the letter, waiting for one of us to take them. "You've met Penelope, she knows you. Perhaps if you tell the guards you're visiting as a friend?" He suggested to me. 

I considered for a moment, then reached out to take the items. "Sure, Beau."

"Oh, thank you! You're a treasure, I always knew so," he beamed at me. I nodded awkwardly, keeping my head down at the flattery. I waved a hand at Arthur and started heading back towards our horses. 

"Come on, Arthur," I said, noting his look of disbelief. 

"Good luck!" Beau called after us as we mounted up and made to leave the Gray estate. 

"You're helping them? With this?" Arthur asked me, cantering alongside me. 

"Yes, wouldn't you have?" I retorted. 

"Well… sure, I guess. He did say he'd pay. But you're gonna put yourself on the line like that, with all those guards?"

"I'm a friend of Penelope's, dropping by for a spot of tea in the gazebo," I shrugged.

"I could just sneak in, you know," he laughed, a little bewildered at my attitude. 

"And if you get caught, you get shot," I pointed out to him. He bobbed his head from side to side in consideration. "If I go in it'll be a lot safer, they ain't gonna shoot at a lady who meets them head on, intentions transparent."

"Fair enough, I won't argue with that logic. But I'll be staying nearby, just in case," he said. 

"Of course," I nodded, then grinned at him. "Some things just need a woman's touch."

Arthur chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure."

We approached the Braithwaite's estate, where Penelope would be, and Arthur hung back so he could wait nearby while I rode up to the entrance and dismounted my horse. The guards perked up when they saw me coming, gripping their weapons and keeping their eyes on me. I strolled up to them, my smile easy and perhaps even a little naive. 

"Afternoon, fellers. Is Penelope about?" I asked. The guards glanced between each other, and one of them eventually spoke up. 

"We've been told not to let anyone on the property without approval," a guard with an impressive moustache told me. 

"I'm sure if you gave Penelope my name she'd give you her approval. I'm an old friend of hers and was just passing through, I wanted to drop in on her and see how she was," I suggested, and gave the guards my name. 

The moustachioed guard nodded to one standing nearby, who left us; presumably to seek out Penelope. I could only pray that she actually remembered me, we had met a number of times when I was staying around Rhodes. I was fond of her, and hoped that the feeling was mutual enough for her to tell the guards to let me in. Otherwise, Arthur and I would have to resort to plan B and sneak onto the property somehow. I hoped it wouldn't come to that. 

I also had to admit that I wanted to prove to Arthur that I could be useful. 

I stood in silence with the guards staring at me. I rocked on my heels, glancing around the place as we waited. While silences with Arthur were rarely awkward, this silence certainly was, and I felt myself scrambling for something to say or do to fill the space. I glanced at the head honcho guard with the moustache, and cleared my throat.

"How are you, sir?" I asked. He cocked a brow, glanced at the other guard. Christ, had these men never had a conversation before? 

"Fine, miss. Yourself?" He said after a long pause. I smiled at the response. 

"Very well, thank you," I nodded. "I'm passing through on my way to Saint Denis. First big city I've ever been to!" I spun a little yarn, just for fun.

"Oh? I hope you enjoy it. I actually have a sister who lives out there," he told me, shoulders loosening, his grip on his weapon becoming more casual.

"Really? Does she like it out there?"

"Loves it. I've never been much for the place, personally, I'm more of a country man. She met her husband there and never looked back," he told me, and suddenly we were like two friendly strangers having a chat on the street.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and meet my future husband there too," I laughed, watching his brows raise and his attitude shift. 

"You're not married?" He queried. 

"No, not me," I shook my head, feigning sadness. 

"Oh, me neither," he told me and I nodded, stalling at where to carry on from there. The other guard cleared his throat and casually strolled away, mentioning something about patrolling the estate.

Well, shit. 

"How long are you staying in Saint Denis, miss? Perhaps I could find some time to show you some points of interest?" 

_Shit!_

I continued to just look at the guy, an awkward smile plastered on my face, my bullshit falling through as I clocked what was going on. Luckily, I spotted movement over the guard's shoulder. 

"Oh! Your friend's back, look," I pointed to him as he jogged back over to us. 

"Come on in, ma'am, apologies for the hostility. Penelope is out at the gazebo, just over there. Would you like someone to escort you?" The returning guard told me, and relief filled me to the brim. 

"No, that's quite alright. Thank you kindly!" I said, grabbing the opportunity to speed away from the moustache, heading in the direction the guard pointed me in. 

I found Penelope sitting down in the gazebo with a cup of tea, looking as beautiful and put together as I remembered her, with her curled and styled blonde hair and her powder blue frock. She rose to her feet and called my name when she spotted me, and I rushed over to her to give her a gentle hug and a peck on the cheek.

"Penelope! It's good to see you, you look well," I told her and she gave me a once over. 

"As do you! When I saw you last it wasn't long after your brother's passing. You look much happier, now, I'm glad to see," she said, beaming at me. "I must admit, I had quite the surprise when they told me you were here, I never expected to see you again."

"I hope you don't mind me just dropping in, you see…" I glanced around to check that we weren't being watched before I pulled the letter and the gift from my satchel. "I met with Beau today, he asked me to give these to you."

"Oh, Beau! He's such a sweetheart," she swooned, sitting down and tearing open the letter. I took a seat next to her and watched as she read. "How I wish things were different," she sighed, shaking her head.

"I think you will find a way, Penelope. You and Beau certainly belong together," I assured her and she looked up and smiled at me. 

"I'm glad somebody can see that. My family are just foul, I hope they get what's coming to them… I'm sorry, they just make me so mad," she tutted and put the letter down. "Where are my manners? Would you like some tea?"

"No, thank you. I shouldn't stay too long, I have somebody waiting for me," I explained and she cocked her head.

"Really? Pardon me if this sounds rude, but I was under the impression you kept with your own company?"

"That was true, until recently. I have made a few friends," I said, feeling sheepish all of a sudden. 

"Oh? Does one of those happen to be a gentleman friend?" She gave me a knowing smile and I chuckled. "I can see that look in your eye, madam. There's no fooling a hopeless romantic like yours truly."

"Well, perhaps," I said quietly and she laughed a very ladylike, tinkly laugh. 

"Alright, I won't grill you. But I wish you the best."

"I wish the same for you," I gave her arm a gentle pat and she glanced down. 

"I'm sorry to ask," she started. 

"You have something for me to give to Beau?" I guessed, and she nodded. "Of course."

"Thank you. You're a kind soul," she smiled, handing me a letter. 

"You're most welcome. Take care of yourself, Penelope. It was lovely seeing you," I rose to my feet and she stood up too, giving me another quick hug before letting me head back.

I made sure to make my exit as quickly as possible to avoid being flagged down by the moustache; I absolutely hadn't intended to give him any ideas. That was a total accident. I met with Arthur again away from the property, not far from the tree-lined road leading up to the manor. He was smoking a cigarette, but stubbed it out when he saw me approaching. I held up Penelope's letter to Beau and he raised a brow.

"We turning into messengers, now?" He laughed. 

"We gotta go back to Beau to get our payment anyway," I shrugged. 

"Everything go smoothly in there?" He asked.

"Of course," I smirked. "Why wouldn't it?"

"No reason," he said, taking a few steps towards me. 

"I'm a fantastic bullshitter, Arthur. If running in this gang has taught me anything about myself, it's that." 

"Yeah? What'chu spin this time?"

"I'm off to Saint Denis, hoping to find a husband, apparently. Though, I should be more careful with what I say. The poor guard thought I was flirting, I reckon."

"Do I gotta keep an eye on you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" I snickered. A devilish smirk crossed his lips as he closed the gap between us and pinched my chin between his fingers. My heart rate skyrocketed. 

"John, Micah, the guard… who else you trying to seduce?" He teased me, pressing one of my buttons so easily. I sputtered and shook my head.

"Arthur!" I hissed, and he laughed at my response. 

"I'm just kidding, princess. Relax," he whispered, making my body feel like simmering water, all loose and unstable. "We've been out here alone for hours and I ain't kissed you once, we're wasting opportunities here."

"We've been busy," I murmured half-heartedly, my mind going all foggy as he came closer, his lips inches from mine. He paused there, looking into my eyes as if asking for permission, I nodded just slightly and he closed in.

Gosh, it was just as new and wonderful as the first time. Arthur's lips felt plush against mine; not the softest in the world due to a healing cut, but certainly soft as in gentle. They moved so nicely with mine and I mewled quietly against them, taking his free hand in mine and pressing our palms together, squeezing him and running my thumb over the back of his hand. I was panting in moments and letting out the occasional little sound, eventually prompting Arthur to pull back and chuckle. 

"Are you always this vocal when you kiss?"

"I guess we'll find out," I breathed. 

"Oh, I forgot, this is…" he trailed off. "Everything feels even more new to you than it does to me."

"Should I try to be quiet?"

"No," he told me, then kissed me again, cupping the back of my head and pushing his fingers through my loose hair. I pushed my body up against his, completely forgetting our surroundings. For all I knew we could be on a stage in front of thousands and I would still be focused on nothing but him and the way he tasted. 

I didn't quite know what to do when his tongue pressed against the seal of my lips. By the time I'd made the decision to open my mouth, his tongue had already retreated and Arthur was reining himself in, pulling back to catch his breath. 

"I like the sounds you make. Makes me wonder what you'd sound like–" he stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. "I will stop there before my mouth gets me into trouble."

"Arthur," I whispered, wrapping my free hand around his suspenders. 

"I forget myself when I kiss you, I fear I'll do something to upset you if I'm not careful," he admitted. 

"I'm a grown woman," I reminded him, and he opened his eyes to look into mine. "This might be new to me, physically, but you best believe it ain't new to my mind. I've wanted to experience this for so long."

"I would hate for you to think I'm being disrespectful, but everything you do when we kiss has me feeling… thinking… I can't say the words. This is happening real fast and I'm struggling to control my thoughts, among other things."

"Are you talking about the fact that it feels like you're wearing an extra revolver on your belt?" I whispered meekly, almost like I didn't want him to hear me.

Arthur went beet red and started leaning back, but I kept him close with the hand on his suspenders.

"Yes," he confessed.

"Don't worry about it," I reassured him, feeling my own body stir at the thought of him becoming aroused because of little old me. Arthur visibly relaxed.

"I haven't had this kind of attention in a long time and I guess I'm just a little sensitive," he said sheepishly. I shook my head and kissed his jawline. 

"You don't have to justify nothing," I said. 

"I feel like a damn teenager," he laughed breathily and I smirked. 

"You should know I feel just the same."

"Then I reckon we ought to, uh, to leave each other alone for a while," he suggested. I pouted a little, but nodded anyway.

"I guess," I sighed. "Though, it was your idea to kiss me."

"Guilty as charged," he laughed, then slowly slid away from me. It was oh so tempting to glance down and see what I was feeling against my lower belly, but I forced myself to behave. "Come on, let's go give that letter to Beau."


	19. A Trip North

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going on a trip with Arthur and Charles :)

A couple of days passed, Arthur had ended up helping Beau some more; accompanying Penelope on a women's suffrage rally. I volunteered myself to go too, but Beau worried that more women going along might make matters worse, riling up the not-so-progressive locals even more. I hadn't argued, despite rather liking the cause Penelope and the other women were rallying for; why shouldn't we have the right to cast a vote, too? Anyway, the rally came and went and Arthur got busy, pulled into some work with Dutch and some others.

When I asked him about it he breezed over it, telling me that it wasn't important and that he'd rather just spend his time with me talking about other things. Though, it was highly puzzling to me to notice the deputy badge on his shirt. He couldn't _not_ explain things to me then, so I prodded him about it one afternoon when he came back from a trip into town with Sadie after she'd yelled down the camp with Pearson.

"Is that badge just an interesting new fashion accessory or are you actually a damn deputy now?" I asked, poking the badge with my finger. He glanced down at it, then grabbed my finger in his hand, keeping it there. 

"I thought I might try something new with my look," he rolled his eyes a little and I wiggled my finger free from his hand, cocking a brow. Arthur sighed. "Alright, if you must know, it's real. But it ain't my damn idea."

"That don't surprise me," I said, glancing over at Dutch where he was sat reading one of his Evelyn Miller novels in his tent. 

"I got you something from town today, you gonna let me show you? Or would you rather me bore you with all these silly details?" He questioned and my eyes widened a little. 

"You got me something?" I squeaked, stunned at the idea of receiving a gift from him. 

"I did, don't get too excited," he chuckled, opening up his satchel. 

"Wait, finish telling me about this first," I decided, touching his arm to stop him. 

"Fine. 'Least if you get mad, I'll have a gift to soften the blow," he breathed. I frowned a little, not quite understanding why he'd be worried about making me mad. "Dutch reckons the Braithwaites and the Grays both have money, enough to go around, if you get my meaning."

"I certainly do, so what's with the badges? You on the payroll?" I snorted and Arthur looked at me for a while, a little hesitant. 

"He wants us to play 'em both. Gain their trust, figure out what's what, and when the time is right; take whatever they've got in the hopes they both think the other family's to blame. You know they've got that silly feud."

"Well it sounds good on paper, a little risky, but what work do you do that ain't risky?" I put my hands on my hips, waiting for some sort of response as Arthur narrowed his eyes a little. 

"You ain't mad?"

"That was what was supposed to make me mad? Why on Earth?" I cocked my head incredulously and Arthur released a quiet breath. 

"You being friends with Beau and Penelope, I figured you might not be too pleased about us robbing 'em," he explained and I nodded in understanding. 

"Fair enough, but I already told you. Their families are terrible, I don't care what happens as long as Beau and Penelope get out fine. Maybe we can help them," I shrugged. "Besides, I know they barely see a penny of their families' money as it is."

"Well, in that case, that's a relief. We can help them, if the opportunity arises," Arthur nodded and I smiled at him, then glanced down at his satchel. 

"So what did you pick up in town?" I asked, watching a little smile settle on Arthur's features as he reached into his satchel again. He retrieved a leather bound book and held it out towards me.

"I said I'd look for a sketchbook for you, got you this and–" I took the book from him, my lips parting as he dug around in his satchel some more, "a pencil, so you can pick up drawing again."

I took the pencil from him too and stared at the items for a while, unable to find suitable words for my gratitude. The journal was wrapped in black leather, polished to a subtle shine and had a strip of embossing next to the spine, delicate swirls. It was a beautiful object, the likes of which I'd never owned. All of my previous drawing experience had been on loose paper, scraps my father gave to me whenever he could. 

"Arthur this is wonderful, I wasn't expecting this at all," I shook my head, flicking through the book and watching the off-white pages flutter.

"I said I would," he chuckled. 

"Yes, but I…" I trailed off, then looked up at him and gave him a smile. "Thank you. What can I do to repay you?"

Arthur shook his head and patted the top of the book. "Nothing, it's a gift."

"It's a beautiful gift, surely there is something I can do to show my gratitude?" I said, reaching and giving his arm an affectionate rub. Arthur looked around cluelessly, shaking his head. 

"I don't know, draw me a picture," he decided. 

"Of course! Any preference for what?" I grinned at him. 

"Surprise me," he chuckled, taking my hand from his arm and squeezing it. "Do you like it?"

"I love it, I've never owned my own journal before, it's incredible,” I told him with a joyous sigh. 

"I'm pleased. I like seeing you smile," he told me, then let go of my hand when someone walked past; Susan, eyeing the two of us up curiously. I laughed and looked down at the book, face warming up.

"Thank you, again. I really appreciate this," I told him and he shrugged. 

"No worries, sweetheart. We'll take a trip out again sometime, when we have the time," he suggested and I nodded eagerly. 

"I would love to."

-

"Is it my birthday today? This is the second time someone's brought me a goodie," I asked when Charles approached me where I was stood slicing carrots – a job I was more than willing to give Sadie a rest from – carrying a bow and a bundle of arrows. "You found some time to make one?"

"Of course, a deal's a deal. Besides, it'll be nice having a new hunting partner," he told me, handing me the bow and the arrows. I inspected it, noting its distinct hand-made quality, made from a strip of wood that'd been carved and bent into shape, and sanded down with what I could only imagine was a lot of elbow grease. 

"You made this?" I said, stunned. 

"Sure. I hope it's okay for you, let me know if it needs any adjustments," he said. 

"This is fantastic, thank you. You ever need anything from me, I'm happy to help. This must've taken a lot of time," I told him, holding the bow and drawing the string back, getting a feel for it. "A bit of oleander hardly makes up for it."

"I wasn't lying when I said I enjoyed making things. I was happy to do it, you know that."

"Well, I'll draw you a picture, how's that? Arthur got me a sketchbook today, so I will create something with my hands for you just as you created this for me," I bargained. Charles smiled, glancing over his shoulder at where Arthur was napping on his bed.

"Sounds fair, you're becoming good friends with Arthur, aren't you? He's a good man," Charles pointed out, innocently enough. 

"I enjoy his company, I find we have things in common," I nodded. 

"The three of us should go hunting together, he knows a fair bit about it and I think we'd make a good team. We could use some new furs for the camp; something thicker to sleep on. You ever hunted a bear before?"

"Christ, no. Look at me," I chuckled, gesturing to myself; being much smaller than the likes of Charles who was well built with muscle and brawn. 

"They're fairly common up north from here. The three of us could head that way for a couple of days, camp out, I'll teach you. You survived on your own this long, I think you could handle it," he gave me an amused smile, no doubt at the look on my face. 

"Bears? Well, okay Charles. I'll go with it," I laughed uneasily and Charles patted my shoulder. 

"You can handle it," he reiterated. "You got that rifle from Micah, right? That'll work, if we fit it with a scope. We won't be getting too close, don't worry."

"Alright," I nodded, "a few days away from camp sounds good anyway, if we don't get eaten."

Charles seemed to agree, laughing. "I will leave you to your work, and I'll speak to Arthur about taking that trip."

-

The three of us – Arthur, Charles and I – got the go ahead from Dutch to leave for a few days, and packed up supplies on our horses to keep us fed and warm. We'd be heading up towards the grizzlies, Charles had planned out the route and we all left early one morning; stocked full of tinned foods, blankets, tents and rifles. We were heading towards a place I'd never been before, to do something I had never dreamed of trying. I wasn't nervous, but I was full of anticipation and excitement. The biggest animal I'd ever taken down was a buck, the most dangerous animal had been a rather angry alligator, a bear was certainly a daunting mark but I trusted Charles. 

Along the way he told us about the animals he'd hunted in the past; he was extremely knowledgeable on the subject and I admired him. Hunting was something I enjoyed, now that I was capable enough to do it cleanly, not because I enjoyed killing things but because of the quietness of the task. You couldn't hunt while stomping around or chattering on about nonsense, you had to concentrate and be careful, it put me into a sort of meditative state which separated me from my thoughts and anything that I was struggling with. Of course, I hunted for survival and it didn't bring me pleasure to harm creatures, but there was a set of steps, a routine, that made hunting rather peaceful, ironically. 

We stopped for lunch, and Charles encouraged me to hunt a rabbit with my new bow to test it out. He and Arthur set up a small fire while I went off on my own, searching out our meal. Rabbits were not difficult to come across, and I was heading back to them quickly with my catch. 

"That bow can't be too bad," Charles said, pleased with himself when he spotted the rabbit. I thanked him again for the bow and we skinned and cooked the rabbit, eating it with some tinned sweetcorn and a bit of cheese, and let our horses rest while we sat down around the fire for a little while. 

I found myself smiling an awful lot, being with Charles and Arthur. All three of us were rather like-minded; a little quiet and happy to enjoy each others' company with long stretches of silence between the odd story. I took the opportunity to sit and sketch Charles while he was sat giving his rifle a clean and Arthur was brushing his horse. The atmosphere – with the crackle of the fire, the sound of birds singing, the company of the two men – made me wonder how on Earth I had gone so long on my own. There was a sense of comfort here, that I'd never experienced by myself.

I jumped when something touched my head, realising quickly that it was Arthur placing a hat on my head. I looked up at him, my eyes a little widened, and he chuckled. 

"I figured you could use this more than I do. Looks better on you anyway," he said, sitting down beside me. When I didn't say anything, he turned to look at me, then straightened the hat on my head. "You can keep it," he clarified. 

"You sure?" I asked him. 

"Of course. Been wearing this hat for years," he tipped his own hat at me. "I was only carrying that one 'round as a spare. I don't like you riding in the sun too long without it."

"Am I burning?" I questioned, putting my journal down to pat my cheeks. 

"Not yet, I'm taking preventative measures."

"Well, thank you," I smiled gratefully, then picked my book back up to continue drawing. 

"What'chu drawing?" He asked, and I lifted a finger to my lips before flicking my eyes over to Charles, who was still absorbed in cleaning his weapon. Arthur chuckled and nodded in understanding. I tilted the drawing to him and he studied it. "Looking good."

"Good," I smiled. "I'm almost done."

I continued sketching, finishing off the rest of Charles' body, capturing a very crooked and inaccurate looking rifle in his hands. It was recognisable as a gun, at least, and that was good enough for me. As I worked, I sensed Arthur's attention on me, and I worked very hard to not let it put me off. I jumped again when his hand appeared by my face, going to move some hair; I was wearing it down and it fell forward, curtaining my face from him as I looked down. When he realised he'd startled me, his hand froze, then moved very gingerly to brush the hair back. When I looked at him, he seemed a little embarrassed and didn't meet my eyes. I shifted, pressing my shoulder up against his in silent reassurance. 

"We should keep going," Charles spoke up, rising to his feet and slinging his rifle over his shoulder. I moved back to a more natural position and closed my journal, looking up at him. "We'll ride for a few more hours and then stop somewhere for the night, I've packed up the rest of that rabbit, we can finish it later."

"Whereabouts will we be by then?" I asked curiously as I stood up with Arthur. Charles put out the fire as we gathered up our things. 

"We're aiming to be just South of O'Creagh's Run. Best place to look for bears is North of that lake, that gives us all day tomorrow to hunt. Depending on how well that goes, we can either start heading back tomorrow afternoon, or we can stay the night and leave the next morning," Charles explained, heading towards the horses. We all mounted up again. 

"There's wolves around there, I heard," I said, glancing at Charles from the corner of my eye, trying not to sound worried.

"Sure, sometimes, but they shouldn't bother us if we give them no reason to. We'll store the food away from our camp just to be safe," he assured me. 

"And sleep with guns in our hands," Arthur laughed mischievously and I looked over at him. 

"You two have both hunted these kinds of animals before, haven't you?"

"I've hunted a couple of bears," Arthur affirmed. "You haven't?" He asked, seeming a little surprised. 

"No, seemed a little risky and pointless when I was on my own," I told him. 

"Hosea and I almost got devoured by this big bastard not too long ago," Arthur told me. "I finished him off, though."

"I reckon John mentioned this," I said, and Arthur glanced at me in question. 

"John? What's he say?"

"Said you made a lovely hat," I smirked. Arthur made a little humming sound and looked away, an embarrassed flush appearing on his face. 

"I remember that," Charles said, speaking from up ahead. "It was an interesting choice. Definitely a little morbid," he laughed. 

"Yeah, well, better than it going to waste, you ought’a admit," Arthur defended and I offered him a grin. 

"My brother had that kinda stuff made. Though, he weren't much of a hunter. He owned a hat with a bunch'a rat parts around the brim; I can guarantee whatever your hat looked like, it was better than my brother's."

"Rats?" Arthur questioned, and made a face. I nodded sympathetically.

"I lived with that for a few months," I said. 

"Jesus, I'm sorry," Arthur murmured, making me laugh. 

We rode until the sun went down, and we set up camp in a little clearing just off the road. We'd made it to where Charles had planned for us to, and finished off the rabbit from earlier. Arthur cracked out some beers, just one each to wet our whistles before bed. We'd set up a tent each – mine being lent to me by John – around the fire. 

Since we were staying put for the night I decided to give Charles what I'd drawn that afternoon, so I retrieved the drawing from my satchel and scooted over to him. He took a swig of beer and eyed me up as I offered it out to him. 

"I hope you don't mind. I said I'd draw something as a small token of gratitude for crafting that bow. How's a portrait?" I said as he took it from me. He smiled when he set his eyes on it. 

"Wow, when did you do this; earlier on?" He asked and I nodded. "You're stealthy."

"It ain't worth nothing, I'm no fancy french artist, but I hope the novelty of having a drawing of yourself brings you a little happiness," I grinned at him. 

"It does. This is great, thank you," he chuckled as he stared at the drawing, lifting it up to get a closer look in the dim light around the fire. 

"I gotta think of something to draw for Arthur since he got me the book I drew that in," I looked over at him, and he perked up at the mention of his name. Before, he'd been staring up at the sky, leaning up against a big rock nearby. "What do you think, Charles?"

"You're not gonna draw him?"

"I've drawn him once before, that's still in my saddlebag come to think of it. I'm thinking something different."

Arthur stood up, stretched a little, then approached the fire; the light of it illuminated him better, highlighting his most prominent features and reflecting in his eyes. "Draw me, uhh… draw me a duck."

"A duck?" I cocked my head. 

"What's wrong with ducks?"

"Nothing's wrong with ducks, that's just real unexpected. What kinda duck you want; mallard? Pekin?" I laughed. 

"How 'bout one of each?" 

"Ohh, of course. Anything else?"

"Naw, I ain't greedy," he said, smirking good-naturedly and strolling over to the horses. He stroked his horse's face and fed him an apple from his satchel. 

"You sure you want ducks? What if I drew Jet?" I asked, getting up and joining him with the horses. Arthur paused, looking at me thoughtfully. 

"You know what? I wouldn't mind that. You like that, boy?" He turned to his horse, giving him some affection. "Get your picture drawn?"

"I think he'd like it," I snickered. Arthur glanced cautiously over at Charles, then reached for my hand. He lifted it to his mouth, pressing a number of kisses across my knuckles. 

"You could draw me anything and I'd treasure it," he whispered. A drop of something warm felt like it rolled from my heart to my belly; affection and longing. I leaned in to kiss his cheek, just once, a fraction of what I wanted to do. 

Arthur looked at Charles again and let go of my hand. I heard movement behind me and bit down on my lip to hold something back, I don't know what, but I felt like some sort of sound wanted to escape from me. I had so many feelings. 

"I'm gonna turn in, you two should too. Early start tomorrow," Charles told us, and I glanced over my shoulder to see that he wasn't even looking our way. 

"Goodnight, Charles," I called to him, and he lifted his arm in a languid little wave before he crawled into his tent, closing the flaps behind him. 

When I turned back to Arthur, he almost immediately closed the space between us to lay a kiss on me, one that stole my breath and coaxed my hands from my sides and to the fabric at the front of his shirt. After a moment he spread his kisses to my cheek, to my temple, then his lips hovered by my ear.

"What I wouldn't give for just ten minutes alone with you, where we don't gotta do nothin' but this," he whispered to me, instantly warming me from head to toe. All I could do was nod. "I'll get us some time, soon."

"There's so much I wanna do–"

"Don't say nothing that's gonna make me resent one of my best friends for merely being here," he chuckled, only half serious. I glanced back towards Charles' tent. 

"I both love and hate sneaking around like this," I told him. "We can tell whoever we like, but I enjoy knowing that this is just between us."

"I know the feeling," Arthur nodded. "We can keep this quiet for now. I guess… I guess if we don't tell no one, for as long as they think we're just friends, we can get away with spending nights away from camp alone without them making assumptions."

"We should take advantage of that at least once, don't you think?" I giggled, watching Arthur lick his lips, his eyes turning a little sultry. 

"Absolutely. A night alone, jus' you and me, that sounds real nice," he purred, pressing another kiss to my temple. "For now, though, we got company. Let's go get some sleep, princess."


	20. Out In The Open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter contains hunting and of course animal death. Hunting trip with Arthur and Charles!

Despite going a long time sleeping in a tent just like the one I'd borrowed from John, completely alone while feeling completely fine… the thought of wolves and bears skulking around kept me up. I stared up at the top of the tent, watching the play of light coming through from the flickering fire, seeing it dim and brighten, dim and brighten. I kept hearing rustling, footsteps, movement, and as much as I told myself it was the horses – which it most definitely was – I found myself laying perfectly still, ears straining. I knew that if a wolf turned up, we'd know about it pretty damn fast from the fuss the horses'd make, but still. Fear wasn't always rational. 

I started stressing, knowing that if I didn't fall asleep soon I'd be dead on my feet the next day and be useless. I squeezed my eyes shut and laid there for another ten minutes or so, but I kept hearing things and my body would tense up all over again. I felt like I should be sleeping with my gun, just like Arthur had joked about, and seriously contemplated going out to get it. 

In the end I did. I sat up and gingerly pulled back the flaps of my tent, looking around. The fire was still going, just a little weaker than before, and of course there was nothing waiting outside for me but midges and moths. I crept out of my tent and scuttled over to where the saddles were, my rifle was hidden underneath mine and I carefully lifted it up. I was being as quiet as I could, in fact, I thought that I was being pretty silent, but I was wrong.

"What'chu doing out here?"

I nearly screamed, but only a squeak escaped me as I spun around to see Arthur poking his head out of his tent. I clapped a hand over my chest and panted, my heart going a mile a minute. 

"Jesus…" I breathed. Arthur waved me over to him, looking around the place. I abandoned my gun and approached him. 

"What's wrong?" He asked me in a hissy little whisper.

"Nothing," I lied, shaking my head. 

"What're you doing by the saddles; you hear something?"

"I've been hearing a lot of things," I let out a breathy laugh and shook my head. "I was looking for my rifle, just to have with me, just in case."

"Well, I've got my revolver in here, thing barely leaves my side. You really wanna be sleeping cuddled up to a damn rifle, though?" He laughed incredulously and I shook my head. 

"Not particularly. But I don't have no dainty guns," I smirked. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"You didn't, I weren't asleep yet. Why don't… why don't you come in here with me?" He suggested. The offer took me by surprise and my brows raised of their own accord. "Or not, 's up to you," he glanced away casually. 

"Scoot over, then," I said, dropping to my knees and peeling back the tent flap a little further. Arthur looked shocked that I'd agreed and quickly made room for me, watching me with this cute, wide-eyed look on his face. I grinned at him as I joined him in the tight space, settling down on my side as he moved to lay down beside me. 

Both of us were still dressed, but he'd taken off his shirt to reveal his union suit underneath, and he adjusted his blanket to cover us both. The size of the tent and the blanket forced us together, and we laid face to face just a few inches apart, a position I was certainly pleased with. For a moment, Arthur didn't seem to know what to do with his arms.

"You mind if I," he trailed off, his arm hovering over my waist to illustrate his meaning.

"Be my guest," I told him, scooting just a little closer as his hand settled on my side, holding me carefully. I let out a content breath and closed my eyes, resting my head on my folded arm.

After a moment, Arthur's thumb started idly stroking back and forth, immediately becoming the only thing I could think about. Just above my hip, a spot so intimate I'd never been touched there before, eventually I opened my eyes to peek at him. His eyes were still open but they were soft, out of focus where they settled on my torso, he appeared to be lost in thought and he didn't notice me looking at him. I lifted a hand and placed it against his chest, capturing his attention. We looked at each other for a few moments, then I leaned in to kiss him. 

My kiss was timid, not quite used to initiating that kind of thing just yet, but Arthur responded all the same. It was sweet, at first, but I sensed him getting absorbed in the act as he became a little more insistent, passionate. I didn't oppose it, I would be mirroring his energy just as eager if it weren't for my worries of starting something I wasn't prepared to finish. Not with Charles sleeping a few feet away. So when his hand started exploring, ghosting up my side and forwards just a bit, moving dangerously close to my chest, I caught his hand and pulled away. 

"I'm sorry," he immediately uttered in the quiet. "Don't know what came over me."

"Don't be sorry. I would love to carry on like that but…" I whispered, my lips still a few centimetres from his. "I wanna wait till we're alone."

"I know, I know, me too, I'm just getting carried away," he explained, shaking his head. "You have that effect on me. You're dangerous."

I snickered, dipping my head into the hollow of his collar bone. He wrapped his arms snugly around me and leaned his cheek on my head. We stayed like that, and at some point we fell asleep together.

-

I woke up before Arthur did. In the night we'd shifted and I found myself laying half on top of him, my leg hooked over his and my head on his chest. Poor man, I hoped he'd slept through it and I hadn't kept him awake with my weight on him. I quickly remembered where we were, and rolled off of him so I could get up and sneak to my own tent before everyone else woke up. I kept my eyes on Arthur as I crawled out of the tent, backside-first, careful not to wake him. He was still sound asleep by the time I removed myself, and I closed up the tent with a smile on my face. 

A smile that swiftly dropped as soon as I turned around and spotted Charles there, just sitting by his tent and watching me with a completely blank, unreadable expression, steaming coffee in his hand. 

We stared at each other for a lengthy few moments before I let out an odd chuckle. 

"Good morning, Charles," I said. 

"Good morning," he replied, a playful sort of tone to his voice, like he was mocking me without really mocking me. 

"Sleep well?" I asked. Charles smirked and poured me a cup of coffee, he held it out to me and I came to sit close by, taking the cup with an appreciative nod.

"Just fine, thanks. How'd you and Arthur sleep?" He asked. My cheeks flushed and I couldn't help but imagine what he must be thinking. 

"Charles, I want you to know that nothing… nothing odd happened. I'd hate for you to think we were being, uhh, improper, in your company," I explained meekly, staring down into my coffee mug. I heard him laugh. 

"It's not my business."

"It's the truth, though. I merely got a little, dare I say, scared, being out here with the wolves," I added.

"You don't owe me an explanation," he assured me, and I looked up at him to see him smiling. "I'm a little surprised, but at the same time I'm not. If you and Arthur have found happiness in each other, I'm pleased for you both."

"Thank you," I breathed. "It's all very new. We weren't planning on telling anyone right away."

"I'll keep my mouth shut, don't you worry. I'm not one for gossip."

"I didn't think you would be," I nodded. 

"We should wake him up soon, anyway. Start heading past the lake, into the hills and woods. We spend the day out there, I see no reason why we can't find two or three bears. Should make the camp a little more comfortable for us people who _aren't lucky enough to have a bed,_ " he raised his voice at the end of his sentence, looking over towards Arthur's tent with a playful smile on his face. A little grunting sound came from across the camp and I snorted. 

Rustling could be heard and a few moments later Arthur emerged, yawning and rubbing at his eye. "Mornin', folks," he murmured. Charles poured yet another cup of coffee and passed it to me so I could hand it to Arthur when he sat down beside me. 

"I hope you're well-rested. We have a long day ahead," Charles said. Arthur nodded, sipping at his coffee and taking a long breath. He glanced at me, giving me a gestural nod. 

"You survived the wolves," he noted with a dry chuckle and I simply nodded, looking down at the ground in mild embarrassment, knowing that Charles knew where I'd slept. Charles got up and started packing up his tent, leaving Arthur and I to finish our coffee.

"How'd you sleep?" Arthur asked tentatively, quietly, only in my earshot.

"Like a little baby," I told him and he nodded, pleased. 

"Me too, we should bunk together more often." 

It was uttered so innocently, but there was a hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth at made me snicker and flush. 

"Drink up you two, we should start moving," Charles told us, walking past to get his saddle. 

"Yes, sir," I nodded, downing my coffee and hopping to my feet.

We headed out on our horses after pulling down our temporary campsite, emerging from the small smattering of trees we had camped in to get back on the trail. We were about half an hour out from O'Creagh's Run, and when we eventually stepped out into the open air surrounding it, I was momentarily stunned by the beauty of the place. Never in my life had I been this far up North, the climate up there was considerably cooler, and the ground was rockier. Craggy mountains cropped up all around, it felt almost like being in a giant bowl between those and the tall treeline behind us. The lake was still and quiet, reflecting the wispy clouds over head, a picture that shuddered and distorted as a group of deer scattered and pranced through the shallowest parts when they clocked our arrival. 

There was a small cabin built close to the edge of the water on one side of the lake, and I wondered who lived in a place like this; so secluded from the rest of society. It was a life I could see myself being quite content with; once upon a time I figured that's how I'd live for the rest of my life, completely on my lonesome. Now the idea still appealed to me, but a little company would be nice. My eyes found Arthur at the thought, riding just ahead of me; I'd fallen to the back of the pack, and I watched him taking in the scenery as rapt as I had been. He'd pulled on a worn, chestnut leather hunting jacket with fringing that shivered with his movements and the breeze. It was similar to the one my father used to wear, the one that I'd kept with me until it'd been stolen. That one had been black and entirely too big for me, of course, but it'd been useful on particularly cold nights.

We reached the other side of the lake and Charles stopped his horse, Arthur and I doing the same as he dismounted and pulled his rifle from his saddle; slinging it over his back. 

"We can leave the horses here; they can drink and rest while we carry on on foot. We'll head into those trees, take a look around for tracks," he cast his arm out ahead of us, towards a rocky incline, heading up towards a dense patch of trees. "You ever tracked game like this?" He looked to me as I swung down from Rayna. 

"Once or twice. I generally hunt easy game, don't have to look for long before I spot something. Deer, rabbits, you know," I admitted with a shrug. "But I've tracked deer before, in less populated areas."

"Alright, this shouldn't be much different, then."

"I don't imagine so. I just gotta keep my eyes peeled for huge bear claws rather than dainty little hoof prints," I laughed to myself and Arthur glanced at me. 

"With the three of us here, we're bound to do well," Arthur said, grabbing his own gun. I hung my rifle from my shoulder before giving Rayna an apple to munch on, and patting her neck. 

I joined Charles who was already making his way to the treeline. The ground leading up to it was a little steep and smooth under foot from weathered rock, my feet slipped on more than one occasion, and Arthur had to catch me from skidding down to the bottom again with quick reflexes and a hand around my wrist. 

"Watch yourself," he chuckled. Luckily, the rock merged to grass up ahead, the softer ground a little grippier, and I was at less risk of breaking my neck; Arthur kept hold of me until we made it there and I thanked him quietly. 

"I'm thinking we would do well splitting up and looking for a trail," Charles said, turning around to look at us. I didn't need to say anything before he was reassuring me. "Since this is your first time hunting big game, you two stick together and head that way, I'll go over here."

"Alright," I nodded. 

"You find any tracks, head after them. Like I said, no reason why we can't go home with a couple of new pelts." 

"Sure," Arthur agreed, adjusting his gun so it was hanging off of one shoulder rather than being strapped around his back. For quick access, I imagined, I tried not to think too hard about it. 

"Stay focused, stay quiet. Keep your ears open," Charles told us, and with a nod, we parted ways. 

I turned to Arthur and he waved me forwards, letting me take the lead. We walked carefully and quietly further from the well-trodden path, under the cover of tall trees and across uneven terrain. The ground out here was littered with rocky outcrops, and we weaved between the biggest of them while keeping our eyes to the ground. I spotted signs of other game, hoof prints and small droppings, a well concealed rabbit burrow I almost put my foot in. We were short on luck for a long time and it wasn't until some of the trees cleared out and the space opened up, I spotted a scuff in the dirt; closer inspection revealed it to be a paw print. It wasn't as big as I was expecting, I suspected it belonged to a black bear rather than a grizzly. 

I crouched down beside it, brushing away some broken sticks so I could better make out the direction it was travelling in. Arthur came up behind me and pointed to our right, where more tracks could be seen. I rose up and followed the lead, Arthur settling beside me. 

"Looks pretty fresh," he whispered to me, swinging his gun down and holding it with both hands. 

"You think?" I readied my rifle, pulled back the hammer enough to load a round into the breech, then cocked it fully, keeping the rifle pointed at the ground and my finger far from the trigger once the gun was loaded and cocked. 

"Come on," he crept ahead a little, following the paw prints. I kept on his heels, wide eyes focused on our immediate area, my ears straining to hear absolutely anything. All I could hear was the wind in the trees and the chattering sound of some type of bird up ahead. 

My eyes caught something when Arthur paused, scanning the ground for more prints. I pointed. 

"There's a huge pile of– I think those are bear droppings," I said. We approached for a closer look. "And that's _definitely_ fresh."

"I reckon it's close by," Arthur nodded, looking up to meet my eyes. "If we spot it, you want me to take the shot, or..?"

I pursed my lips. I'd never taken down anything like a bear and while I was nervous, I figured if we kept quiet and didn't alert the thing, it'd be no different to a deer. "I'll do it. But, uh, you take aim too. In case I miss."

"You won't miss," he assured me. 

"Famous last words," I smirked, then turned back to the task at hand. 

Taking a breath, I slowly carried on. I kept my footfalls light and quiet, my knees bent and relaxed. I stopped when I heard rustling, eyes scanning the area before they fell on a bush quite a ways away. My body lurched with fight or flight response, muscles tensing up for a second before I could consciously relax myself; the bear was there. It was side on from me, nose rummaging in a small shrub. It wasn't aware of Arthur and I, and was far enough away that I wasn't too worried about it spotting us too soon. I lifted my rifle, noting Arthur doing the same from the corner of my eye, just as I'd asked him to. 

I'd fitted the rifle with a scope on Charles' recommendation and it was coming in handy, I looked down the sights as I took aim, getting the bears head in the cross-hairs. I'd practised shooting with the rifle before we came on the trip, getting used to it, I was pretty confident with my shot. I took a number of slow breaths as I prepared myself, waiting for the perfect moment. I saw it; the creature lifted it's head just a little, holding still, listening for something. I exhaled, I pulled the trigger. 

Honestly, I was half expecting a second shot from Arthur's gun to down the bear, but it didn't. I'd managed all on my own, and I looked to Arthur for approval. After a moment, he lowered his gun and gave an impressed nod, looking at me from the corner of his eye. I grinned and made my way over to the bear, albeit a little gingerly, checking it was down for good before completely relaxing. 

"Well done," he clapped me on the back as we stood over the animal. My fingertips buzzed from the adrenaline of it all, I wanted to high-five him, hug him, kiss him, _something_. I wasn't sure. But I didn't do anything, I simply thanked him humbly. "How's it feel?"

"Feels… good. Not because this poor thing is dead, but you know," I shrugged my shoulders and glanced up at him. He nodded in understanding, and a few moments later we heard someone approaching. We turned in time to see Charles emerging from the trees. 

"Nice work. I couldn't find anything over that way that whole time, I was considering putting down some bait. I think it'd be best for us all to be together for that, though," he told us, then looked around and took note of the surroundings. "We'll come back for this one, let's head out that way further. Anything close by would've heard that shot."

The three of us did just that, making our way further East through the wooded area. We were walking for a while, the day slipping away from us, before Charles stopped, scanning the place, holding his hand up to halt us. 

"I think I heard something. Sounded distant," he mused then reached into his satchel. He pulled out a little bundle of cloth, unwrapping it and scattering its contents on the ground a little way away. "We should get up higher, in case this attracts any wolves," he added, way too casually. I didn't let myself get nervous, between the three of us, I was sure we'd be able to defend ourselves.

Charles gestured for us to follow and we ended up crouching on a series of large rocky platforms. Charles stepped up onto one of the rocks, keeping his hand outstretched to Arthur and I on the level below him to keep us there. He laid down across the rock, loading and aiming his weapon so he was ready for any visitors. Arthur and I crouched low, but I moved so that I could look around the edge of the rock in a well hidden position. Arthur scooted up behind me, his chest against my back, pressing closer with each inhale. 

I licked my lips and felt my body hum with his proximity, unconsciously leaning back just a little. One of his hands found my hip and his head tilted down, nose brushing the side of my head. I kept my eyes on the bait, as difficult as it was, this was no time to get distracted. 

We waited for a while, each of us silent, though I could hear Arthur's breaths. Slightly faster than what was natural, a little shaky too. That could be chalked up to the possibility of a bear being nearby, but I couldn't help but wonder if it was related to our position. Part of me hoped it was, because that would make it so I wasn't the only one being so affected by it. My palms clammed up and my skin seemed to tingle and burn – in a pleasant way – like sitting by a campfire where the climate was cold. 

Movement. Another bear, big one, a grizzly, came skulking into view on all fours. It sniffed the air, head swaying this way and that as it searched the place. It came up to the bait, huffing and making a sound that rumbled low in its gut, seemed to travel as a vibration through the air rather than just as a sound. I felt it in my belly as well as my eardrums. 

Charles fired, taking it down, the thing let out a roar before collapsing, fast. It was over in less than a second. It astounded me that something so big, dangerous, substantial, could be put to an end so easy; just a well-placed bullet, and lights out. It was a reminder of how fragile life could really be. 

None of us moved for a moment, ensuring nothing else was going to come creeping out of the bushes. Arthur took the opportunity to press a kiss to the side of my head before backing off, in time for Charles to hop down from his ledge. I flashed Arthur a smile before rising up, jumping to the ground next to Charles.

"Clean shot," I nodded, patting his shoulder. 

"Reckon we've got time for one more?" Arthur asked, looking to the sky. We'd been out for a few hours, most of our time spent exploring the area, surveying for tracks. 

"I imagine so. Better give you a chance to catch something, Arthur," Charles said, giving him a good-natured smack on the back. Both men shared a chuckle and we started moving again. 

It was late afternoon by the time we tracked down our third bear, another black bear. We'd been snacking on canned fruit and vegetables to keep us going throughout the day, but I was looking forward to getting some meat from those bears and cooking it up for something heartier. This bear was, of course, Arthur's. He brought it down as it was leaning it's paws up against a big tree, checking out a squirrel that'd scurried up it. It hit the ground the heaviest, with its upright stance, but it was another clean kill. The three of us really did make a good team. 

We worked together to skin the bears, they were big animals and it was a lot easier to handle them with a couple of pairs of hands. I did most of the work taking the pelt off cleanly, and Charles and Arthur cut free the best meat, packing it away in their satchels. We headed back towards our horses, each with a thick bear pelt rolled up on our shoulders. It was a fair trek back, and my shoulder ached from the weight of the pelt by the time we reached the horses, but I felt pleased with what we'd accomplished. 

It was the evening by the time our work was done, and we ummed and ahhed for a little while about whether we should start heading back then, or just wait until the morning. In the end, we decided to cover a little ground before setting up another camp for the night somewhere on the outskirts of New Hanover. It made it all the more rewarding when we got a fire going and finally cooked up some of the meat we'd acquired. We turned in early, exhausted from the day spent on our feet, and I managed to sleep the whole night in my own tent this time. Mainly out of respect for Charles, despite him not seeming to mind catching me coming out of Arthur's tent that morning, I wanted to avoid causing him any discomfort. That, and myself any further embarrassment.


	21. Alone At Last

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Okay, this is a pretty long chapter and guys… it’s time for some lewds. Yeah, so this chapter is explicit, fair warning! Also, it shows off some research into horseshoeing that I have no idea if is historically accurate but I tried my best. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this! This is another chapter I am particularly nervous about posting, haha! :P

The three of us carried on our journey back as soon as we woke, right after some coffee and some canned strawberries passed around between us. I gave Rayna a generous brush down and some celery, thanking her for her service over the previous days, before we left. We took our time heading back, an unspoken agreement between us all that we were happy to dawdle, just a little, to give ourselves some time away. We only really started speeding up when we spotted clouds rolling in overhead about halfway back. None of us particularly enjoyed being soaked through in the rain.

Alas, we knew it was coming when the first spots began to fall. I cursed under my breath, praying that it was just going to spit for a while before miraculously clearing up. It didn't, of course, and it soon came down full force, soaking my shirt and dampening Rayna's coat. The three of us galloped against the pelt of the storm, thunder rumbling overhead. The weather was being so loud I very nearly missed the clanking sound, rhythmic, matching Rayna's hoof beats. I frowned, head dipping towards the source of the sound, below me, and with a groan of despair I very quickly realised what it was. 

"Hold on a second, fellers!" I called out, slowing Rayna down and noting a sudden change in her gait, something close to a limp. I swung down from the saddle as the men stopped too, watching me with matching frowns. 

A check of her hooves confirmed it; her front right shoe was loose, far too loose for me to feel comfortable riding on it. I sighed and pressed my head into Rayna's shoulder. _It never rains, but it pours,_ I thought.

"It's the damn shoe," I informed the others, dragging my hand over my face as I straightened up. 

"We can take it slower, if that helps," Charles said, wincing not-so-hopefully. 

"Ideally it needs to come off, it's real wobbly."

"Easily done. I've got some kit in my saddlebags, I've had this happen one too many times, now I jus' carry the stuff wherever I go," Arthur hopped down from Jet and approached, carefully lifting Rayna's foot to take a look himself. "Yeah, that'll need to come off. Charles, why don't you carry on? No sense in all of us staying out here in the pouring rain."

"You sure? I don't mind staying to help," he replied. Arthur shook his head. 

"We can handle this, you get on. You can tell the others what happened if we make it back late," he said, waving his hand at Charles to encourage him to get moving. 

"Of course. Take care of yourselves, maybe find some shelter in those trees," Charles pointed towards a turn off in the road nearby, heading into a dense patch of trees. 

"Will do," Arthur nodded. The three of us said our goodbyes, and Charles carried on down the trail. 

I came around to Rayna's front, taking hold of her reins, and Arthur did the same with Jet. We led our horses down the offshoot of trodden ground that led into the trees. The path was dryer under the cover of the thick branches up above and with my vision clear from falling rain I realised it wasn't just a trail through the woods. It was a path up to someone's property; there was a small cabin at the end of the trail, it looked old and overgrown with plant life embedding itself into the walls, crawling up to the roof. 

"Look," I pointed to it, grabbing Arthur's attention. "Reckon somebody's home?"

"I don't know, I'll go over there and check it out. Looks like there's a little awning 'round the side that'll keep the horses dry while we sort this," he said, then jogged up the path towards the building. 

I watched him from a distance, seeing him round the property and peek in through the windows. He disappeared around the back and he was gone for a short while, but eventually came jogging back. 

"Place looks abandoned, nobody in there, no food or supplies or nothin'. Looks like it ain't been touched in years," he told me. It was a no-brainer, then. 

We headed up the path with our horses, leading them to the outcrop of weathered wood that served as a fairly decent cover for them, besides a few leaky spots. I got Rayna settled, hitching her up to one of the posts holding up the roof and giving her mane a brush through with my fingers. I removed her saddle and the bearskin to make her more comfortable, and carried them around the back of the small cabin to where Arthur had managed to get in through a door that looked to have been broken into long ago. 

I put the saddle and bearskin down by the door once I was inside and looked around the place, plucking my hat off and shaking my damp hair out. Cobwebs hung from every corner of the room and there was a generous layer of dust on just about everything. It was a one-room set up, with a little kitchenette immediately on my right as I walked in, a dining table just in front, and a bed up against the back left corner. I didn't stay long, heading back out to join Arthur; he was retrieving a rasp and shoe pull-off from his saddlebags. 

"You want me to do it?" He asked. 

"You've done it before," I said, nodding. "I only ever had it done by the farrier."

"Alright. It'll take a bit, but we can do it here. You keep her calm, alright?" Arthur put the pull-off down on the wooden boards that made up the floor below us, keeping hold of the rasp as I came around to Rayna's side, petting her. 

Arthur picked up her foot, bracing it between his knees as he started filing down the clinches, long strokes taking them down little by little. I watched him as he worked, the bulk of his shoulders moving with such strength and… grace, oddly enough. I made sure to keep Rayna happy, feeding her a sugar cube. She was a good girl, anyway, didn't need much to keep her calm. 

"Don't you worry, girl. We'll get this thing off'a you soon enough," Arthur said, speaking to Rayna in a buttery tone that made me smile. Arthur Morgan, the terrifying outlaw.

It took a while for Arthur to remove the clinches, and he'd worked up quite the sweat doing it. He took the opportunity to remove his leather jacket – handing it to me – between readjusting Rayna's foot, turning so he could trap it between his thighs and face the bottom of it. He used the pull-off to prise the shoe from her foot, tugging on one side and then the other, evenly, until the nails loosened up and could be removed completely. I kept a close eye on what he was doing, just in case a situation such as this ever arose again and I had to do it myself. 

He finally got the shoe free, brushed away the dirt from Rayna's foot and checked for any unnoticed injuries. He seemed satisfied, giving her her leg back. She wouldn't like having one shoe missing, but it was safer and would have to do until I could bring her to the nearest stables to get a new set put on. Arthur put away his tools then swapped me his jacket for the shoe. He gave Rayna a nice rub on the neck.

"Good girl. That weren't too bad, was it?" He said to her.

"Thank you, sorry for making you do that. It looks hard work," I told him and he waved a hand dismissively.

"No problem. How 'bout we get out of the rain for a while, sit inside?" He suggested and I didn't hesitate to agree. 

I gave Rayna a parting pat on the neck before heading inside, Arthur soon joined me, hanging his jacket from the back of the single remaining dining chair. There was a second chair, but it was laying on its side with one of the legs missing. The place was dark with only two small windows letting in what minimal light was escaping through the thick clouds, but Arthur found a lantern hanging from the wall and lit it with a match he struck against the bottom of his boot. 

"There, that's a little better," he said softly to himself as he put the glass back in place around the flame and the light spread across the room, casting everything in orange. He glanced around, eyes settling on the bed pushed into the corner. He crossed over to it, smacking his hand against the bare mattress, kicking up dust and brushing it away until he was satisfied enough to sit down. He removed his hat and hung it off the bed post. I took the seat at the table, leaving the horseshoe there and plucking my blouse away from my skin and shaking it a little in a vain attempt at drying it off. It clung to me all over, soaked through.

We sat there for a while wordlessly, the rain battering the roof to supply a constant _shhhh_ sound to fill in the silence. Arthur was sitting forwards, elbows on his knees as he kept his eyes on the ground, and I was sitting with my hands clasped together on the table in front of me, once I'd blown away some of the dust. To say the atmosphere was awkward would be wrong, but not far off. It was more like, overly polite. Neither of us wanted to address the fact that here we were; alone, which was exactly what we'd said we wanted just the other night. It'd been so easy to admit to longing for that, wrapped up in each other in a situation where it was impossible. But now that we actually had our wish, it seemed that neither of us knew what to do, what lines were in place and which we could cross. 

I let my eyes wander over to him, about the same time Arthur decided to do the same. Our eyes met for a series of tense moments and eventually a laugh bubbled from my lips, making him smile. 

"What?" He asked. I shook my head. Abigail crossed my mind, along with a few choice words about making the first move, spoken in her voice. 

I cleared my throat and rose to my feet. Arthur watched me unashamedly as I crossed the room to him, stopping just shy of the bed. He held his hands out to me and I took them in mine, letting him tug me over the rest of the way; I eventually planted myself down on the bed next to him. His eyes scanned me, paying particular attention to my torso; noticing the way my sodden blouse stuck to me and appeared see-through, showing my underthings. I relinquished a corset and chemise when I dressed in trousers for active work, saving the unnecessary layers for the days I wore more ladylike attire; and so I was left with my corset cover acting as a camisole to give me some semblance of decency under my blouse. 

Arthur averted his eyes after a moment of staring, his mouth opening but not saying anything. I wanted him to kiss me just like he'd been meaning to the other night in his tent, and to not hold back his exploration of his big, gentle hands. Gosh, I ached for him. 

"The rain doesn't sound like it's letting up," I commented timidly, eyes focused on the third button of his off-white shirt because it was easier than looking at his face just then. "Would be a shame to just… just sit here in silence, waiting it out."

"You wanna talk?" He asked, his question uttered in such a way that told me he wasn't actually asking if I wanted to talk, but rather, he was looking for confirmation of me wanting something else. 

"I think it'd be nice if you kissed me right about now," I whispered, lifting one shoulder in a meek shrug. Arthur let out a series of breaths that resembled a laugh, then he reached for my cheek, tilting my head up, moving in to connect our lips in a smooth motion with no trace of hesitation. 

His kisses were playful, teasing, moulding into me for just a second too short before he pulled back for a breath, then going in all over again. Between kisses, he whispered; "that's what I was hoping to hear," turning my stomach into a ball of writhing snakes, tickling me from the inside out, making me giggle against his mouth. 

I grabbed hold of his suspenders like I so often did, using them to anchor him to me as he pressed his tongue to my bottom lip; this time I was ready for him and I opened up, welcoming a deeper exchange. I made a little sound as his tongue met mine; careful in nature but certainly not timid. I could taste him better this way, and I didn't know the words to describe it. Certainly not bad, pretty neutral as far as flavours go, but the fact that it was _him_ I was tasting riled me up and made me moan aloud, far more vulgarly than I ever had before. It made Arthur break away, get a look at my eyes. 

"Come– come here," he murmured, taking my hand in his and pulling me towards him, turning me. I cottoned on to what he was wanting and another involuntary sound left me when I allowed him to guide me onto his lap, my legs kneeling either side of his on the mattress, my butt against his thighs, _so close_. So intimate!

Arthur's arms circled around my waist, pulling our torsos flush together as he resumed the work of his lips and tongue, playing with me in a way that made my body fizz and light up like I'd been struck with electricity. My hips edged forwards, tilting, aching to rock, to invade his space, I held myself together and tightened my grip on his suspenders, trying my damnedest to resist. It was difficult, though, my baser instincts driving me, especially when Arthur's hand slipped lower, settling on my backside to support me between his knees when he parted them wider. I rocked against him, a gasp catching in my throat as a groan escaped his. The kiss stopped abruptly and I was quick to stammer out an apology.

"I-I-I'm sorry!" 

His lips where at my jaw instantly, spreading his affection like raindrops across my skin. 

"Don't apologise," his words were difficult to decipher with his mouth pressed up against me. I had a few moments of clarity, my eyes opened against the orange of the room, the aged wood behind Arthur, the smell of damp, the sound of heavy breathing from the both of us suddenly so loud in my ears. The space between my legs throbbing damn near painfully. It hit me full force what was happening, the fact that it was unnervingly real. Before I knew what I was doing I had my hands on his shoulders and I was shoving at him. 

I didn't have to shove hard, at the first sign of disapproval Arthur let me go and held his hands up, leaning back, but the look in his eye was one of hurt. No matter how quickly he attempted to hide it. My jaw was slack when I looked at him, jerking my hands away from him in instant regret. 

"No, I didn't mean that. I don't know why I did that, Arthur, I'm–"

"Forgive me, I took things too far," he shook his head. 

"No, you didn't. I want this, I do, I just– it was all too much, all good, I didn't know how to handle it, I didn't want you to stop," my face burned red and I hated myself. Arthur was closing down, his jaw tense, brow firm and serious.

"You don't have to say all that, I won't be upset if you don't want this, last thing I want is to put pressure on you. I've been selfish, princess, I'm a man and I– hell, that's no excuse," he shook his head, frowning deeper. 

"Arthur," I breathed, cupping his cheek and making him look at me. "I've never felt all this, it's so intense, but it's good! I just– I think I got overwhelmed. I don't think I can do everything just yet, do you see what I'm saying?"

"I understand, and I don't expect you to. Not one bit. Don't think I feel you owe me anything," he explained, finally letting his hands come near me again, one settling on the small of my back, the other stroking the hair at the back of my head.

"No, I just wanted to say that in case… in case I let things go _so_ far, and then want things to stop, you won't think I'm leading you on, being unkind," I let my eyes drop as my forehead pressed against his. 

"I won't ever think that," he whispered so sincerely, so kindly. 

"I'm so sorry I ruined it," I squeaked, feeling emotion bubble up in my throat. Crap. I couldn't cry on top of everything else.

"Shh, angel, you've done no such thing," he told me, pulling me into his chest for a hug. I leaned my head on his shoulder and pressed my face into his neck, squeezing closer. I felt him between my legs, a little hard from our kiss and it reignited the warmth low down in my core. Letting my fingers walk their way down his sides I took a moment to consider my words.

"I don't want to stop. I don't want to go too far, but I want to make you feel… nice," I felt so silly saying it like that. "I don't want to leave you like this," I added, making a point to roll my hips once more, feeling him go rigid. 

"Keep doing that, and you won't have to," he uttered, strained, fingers curling in the wet fabric of my blouse. 

"Yeah?" I whispered, doing it again. He hummed something pleasant and tightened his arms around me, using them to lift me, adjusting me a little bit so when I did it again he released a strangled little sound, badly suppressed. "Is that good?" I asked, feeling him nod firmly. 

I leaned back so I could look at him, he avoided my eyes, tilting his head down and hiding his face from me. I ground against him, feeling his erection between my legs, I focused my movements to rub up and down the length of it, rolling forwards and hearing the scratch of my jeans against his. I let out a loud breath and cupped his face, tilting his head up and having him look me in the eye. His expression was strained, almost a little guilty. I tried to kiss away any worries he had. 

"I like this," I exhaled, letting my eyes close for a moment. 

"You do?" He almost sounded surprised. My hips found a good rhythm, one that felt natural and came easy to me. Arthur's expression had loosened by the time I opened my eyes again, his lips were parted and his eyes were a little glazed, puffs of audible breath came from his mouth and were speeding up the more I moved. 

I nodded quickly. "Hold me, move me how you need to," I whispered to him and a thick, whine of a moan left him at that, eyes fluttering before coming back to focus on me. His hands found my hips and helped to guide me against him. He sped me up a little, his huffs coming louder, panting as if he was exerting himself. He whispered my name and I released something that sounded like a sob, immediately embarrassed by it.

"Does… does this feel good for you, too?" He asked me almost shyly, his voice sounding so deep and aroused it made my insides flutter. My drawers felt damp and the friction our movement caused felt lovely.

"Yes," I said, and it came out like a breath. He dipped his head below my chin, kissing my neck. His nose brushed against me seeking out my ticklish spots so he could avoid them with his mouth, focusing only on the nice spots. His hands on my hips tightened and moved me more fervidly, grunting as he did. Keeping his face buried against my neck he spoke again. 

"I wanna ask you something," he groaned, soon adding; "personal."

"Ask me."

"Do you– have you ever touched yourself?" He blurted out, his breath stopping, hands stopping too. I kept moving my hips, not wanting everything to cease. "Slap me, that was rude."

"I have," I told him, ignoring his concerns. Everything started up again like clockwork and Arthur whined, lifting his head to look at me. 

"You ever made yourself…" he trailed off, seemingly hung up on sounding proper. But this was hardly the time nor place. 

"Many, many times," I whispered, lips curling. 

"I wanna make you–” a groan cut through his words when I grabbed onto his shoulders for support and picked up the pace significantly. I almost regretted it, not getting to hear the rest of his sentence. Though, what he'd said worked on its own, too, given the context.

"Arthur," I crooned, feeling everything so slick against my core, his cock hard in his pants, insistent and throbbing, everything was incredible. 

"God, I'm gonna– little more of this–" he stammered, face reddening. 

"Say it," I sighed. 

"I'm gonna cum," he told me. 

I clenched around nothing at the utterance, so intensely aroused by the thought of him being stimulated enough to climax from this; I'd never felt anything like it. Suddenly I was spurred by it, the need to make him do it, to bring him pleasure. I reached for the buttons of my sodden blouse, popping open the first few before lifting the thing over my head and dropping it on the bed. 

The sound Arthur released was damn near broken, cracked in the middle and tapered off with a breathy laugh. 

"You're the first to see me like this," I whispered to him, watching his face morph into something affectionate and sweet, behind the hunger. My hips had faltered a little in my distraction but it mattered not, especially when I pulled my camisole up and overhead, exposing my breasts to him. 

His mouth worked around words that didn't come out as his wide eyes feasted on them. One hand instinctively slid up my side and closed around my left breast. I gasped at the sensation of being touched there for the first time, someone else's hands on my body, so new and thrilling I found myself arching into it. His thumb passed over a hardened nipple, stimulating me more than touching myself there ever had.

"Fuck," Arthur grunted, a guttural sound being thrown forth as he hunched jerkily, forehead coming into contact with my bare shoulder, knees raising a little. It was like he was curling in on himself, everything going rigid and tight including the hands on my body. He was panting loudly and heavily, it was all very intense. With my inexperience I had no way of being sure of what was happening until both hands returned to my hips and he halted me, a shudder running through him.

Everything was still for a few moments as Arthur slid his hand away from my breast, caught his breath, and my brain caught up with me. It occurred to me that he'd just orgasmed, and I'd had a hand in it. My core clenched and throbbed and I let out a shaky breath, every nerve in my body alive and zinging. When Arthur lifted his head he looked a touch embarrassed, his eyes not knowing where to settle; my breasts? My eyes? Behind me? Back to my breasts? I smirked and stroked his cheek.

"I didn't… didn't think that one through. What a mess I've made of myself," he muttered shamefully, wincing a little. I captured his lips in a kiss, feeling like the longer I left it to do so, the more distant we'd become. The more final that event would seem. 

My hips moved again, Arthur's hands caught me again. I whined. 

"Suh– hah– sensitive," he said against my mouth and I slid my hips back, away. A little guilty. He chuckled, perhaps realising he'd taught me something. 

Arthur lifted me, moving me like I was weightless, to place me down on the mattress beside him. He leaned over me, holding himself up on his elbow by my head as he kissed me, hand travelling down my body, over my breast and my stomach. His fingers passed a ticklish spot on my tummy and I jerked; he dodged that area and let his fingers dance along the top of my jeans. 

"Can I touch you?" He asked me, his voice so quiet and clear as it cut through the sound of the rain still hammering down from above. I nodded my head, keeping my eyes on his as he worked one handed to unbuckle my belt. It took a moment, but he got there, and he worked on the button of my jeans next. My breath picked up as he got closer to his goal, so full of anticipation I felt like I could scream. Hell, I wanted to, if only to release some of the tension I was feeling.

"You definitely want this?" He made sure, eyes so intimately locked on mine. 

"Please," I nodded again, throwing my arm around his shoulders. 

Arthur kissed me again as he worked his hand inside my jeans, then under the waistband of my drawers. His teeth ever so gently nipped at my bottom lip, earning a gasp, before his lips pressed to the corner of my mouth and held there while his mind concentrated on other things. His fingers made some explorative strokes over the curls of hair down there, before dipping lower, ghosting over my lips ever so lightly, making my body writhe and bow, a quiet squeak escaping me. I heard Arthur chuckle, felt the breaths roll over my lips. 

He stroked through my folds, fingers sliding so easy in my wetness, and Arthur let out a sound more pleased than I anticipated given I was the one being touched, not him. He found my clitoris, rolling it gently and lightly under his fingertips, making me gasp and tilt my hips to find more pressure. At this, he pressed harder, not out to tease me or keep me waiting for anything, he wanted to pleasure me. My breaths turned shaky and loud and I could do nothing but lay there with my eyes squeezed shut, clinging to him. It was surreal, having him touch me in such a way; surreal but anything but unpleasant. Another person's ministrations felt different from my own; both less and more intense. Less because it was new to him, he was just beginning to work out what I liked. More because it was _him_ , of course, I needn't explain any further.

He moved faster, parting his lips by my mouth and swallowing up my moans. My eyes opened to find him watching me, taking in my expressions and reactions, his cheeks flushed and eyes lidded with lustful enjoyment. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and hummed behind them, tilting his head to look down at my body while his fingers wandered further south. He paused for a moment to press his lips against my collar bone, then again to the top of my breast, head tilting, nose drawing a line right down to above my nipple where his lips barely brushed before he thought better of it and moved back.

"Tell me if I hurt you," he whispered to me, then eased a single finger inside me. I cried out, my fingers squeezing into the fabric of his shirt, my head lifting and pressing into his shoulder to hide my face as he so gently explored me. 

He moved back and forth slowly, his digit curling and feeling out my walls until he found my sweet spot and I sighed my affirmations, _just there, stay there_. He rocked against that spot, breathing raggedly into my ear, whispering encouraging words, lips turning to press to my neck.

"That's it, princess, I wanna know what you like. Let me know, angel, don't hold back your sounds," he was saying, his wrist tilting, the heel of his hand seeking my clit. He rubbed it simultaneously, and my whole body coiled, pulsed, sang. I'd never felt so good, so aroused and stimulated and ready for my release. I let him work me up to my edge, pleading with him, _don't stop, so good._

"Good girl," he purred, doing something completely indecent to me and driving my hips up against his hand. 

His lips found a spot on my neck that would normally send me into fits of giggles but right then it acted as the final thrill of stimulation to set me off and I choked out a shuddering groan when my body released. My climax was powerful, pleasure enough to make my eyes water and my ears useless as it rolled through me in intensifying waves that lasted and lasted before tapering off, leaving me dizzy. Panting like crazy. Arthur's hum of approval met my ears once they started working again, his fingers still working slowly, bringing me down, easing me back to reality. 

My upper body relaxed and I dropped back down against the bed, my eyes casting up to the ceiling as he finally withdrew his hand. He was looking at me, I could feel it, but I was too shy to look back. But shyness had no place between what we'd just done, and I forced myself to meet his gaze; he gave me a crooked, mindless little smile that showed me he was just as far gone as I was. Just as tired and spent and unfurled. He moved in to seal the deal with a kiss on the lips, a brief peck that warmed my mouth before more kisses were speckled across my cheeks, past my temples, up to my forehead. I closed my eyes and revelled in it, exhaling loudly and letting my hands slide up his arms to settle on his chest.

A moment later he was retreating, slipping out of my reach and stiffly sitting on the edge of the bed, a sigh escaping him. One that was a little more displeased than I'd like to have heard. It made sense very quickly, however. 

"I'm gross, better clean myself up before we do anything else. Can't believe I did that, shooting in my damn pants like it's the first time I ever looked at a lady," he said, mostly under his breath, tone littered with shame and self-deprecation. It confused me. Why on earth would that be something to be ashamed of? No different to what I'd done, really. 

Arthur shifted onto one side and pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket. He wiped at his fingers, first, setting a blush about my face before he unfastened his pants and the lower buttons of his union suit, cleaning up the mess he'd made of the inside of his clothes. I couldn't see anything from my position behind him, but boy was I tempted to sit up. I didn't though, knowing there'd be plenty of time for us to see each other in all our glory later down the line. Speaking of, I was suddenly reminded of the fact I was completely naked from the waist up, and hastily reached for my camisole.

As I pulled it over my head, wonder set in over how I'd had the guts to bare myself to him, especially considering I was suddenly so eager to cover myself up before he turned his eyes to me again. In the heat of the moment I had let go of all shame, nerves and hesitance. I'd _wanted_ him to look at me. Now, with my inhibitions returning, I was undeniably embarrassed.

Arthur glanced over his shoulder to see me redressing, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. He put his handkerchief to one side and twisted in his place to face me. 

"Are you cold?" He asked me. I nodded, though I was okay, truth be told. His hand reached for my shirt, discarded on the bed, squeezing to feel that it was still damp. He didn't hesitate to temporarily slip aside his suspenders and unbutton his own shirt, still dry thanks to the jacket he'd been wearing in the rain.

"Oh, no, you don't have to," I said, realising what he was doing as he pulled his shirt off, revealing his union suit underneath. 

"I don't need it," he told me, pulling the suspenders back in place. "I don't want you feeling uncomfortable, sitting there in your underthings." 

"That's sweet," I breathed, smiling despite myself. I laughed when he sheepishly sniffed his shirt before handing it to me, seemingly satisfied with its cleanliness. "Thank you," I flushed, taking it from him and slipping it over my arms, only bothering to close enough buttons to keep it closed.

It smelled like him, of course. That sweet smoky firewood that I likely smelled of too, given our shared lifestyle. Plus his own personal scent that I couldn't describe, it smelled pleasant, even with the overtones of sweat. It'd been a hard couple of days riding and hunting, I was hardly immune from perspiration either, I wondered if he felt at all put off by the way I smelled. Frankly, nothing about Arthur could put me off.

Rain still battered the roof of our shelter, it didn't sound like it was stopping any time soon. Arthur commented something to that effect and I nodded, not finding an ounce of me that cared. I was happy. With a heavy, contented breath, Arthur moved to lay down on the bed then made little gestures with his hands to usher me over. Once I was close enough, he pulled me into his embrace and made me lay on top of him; much like I'd woken up on him the other morning. A smile spread across my face and I dipped my head below his chin to hide it from him. It only grew when his lips pecked the top of my head and his hand lazily began to brush up and down my spine.


	22. Tales Of Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The list of those in the know is slowly (ehh, quickly) growing, and we find out some unhappy tales from Arthur’s past.

Neither of us immediately addressed what we'd done, which struck me as odd considering it seemed like rather a large step. I didn't particularly mind, though, content to spend some time with Arthur just being quiet and enjoying each other. We ended up sleeping through until morning, lulled by the sound of rain without the threat of being soaked by it for once. When I woke up I had the bed to myself, and quickly sat up to survey my surroundings. It took barely a second for me to remember where I was and what had happened the previous evening, and I was shocked that we'd fallen asleep. I knew it hadn't been our intention to stay the night. 

At some point, Arthur had covered me with a blanket, and I glanced across the room to spot him sitting at the table, pencil scratching across the page of his journal. I could tell he was writing rather than drawing, and with his hand holding up his forehead and shielding his eyes from me, he didn't notice immediately that I was awake.

"Arthur," I said, my voice disturbing the stillness of the room. Arthur peeled his head up to meet my eyes; his hair was ruffled and he looked like he'd only just got up, so I didn't feel too bad about being the last one to wake. 

"Morning," he said, pulling out his pocket watch and puffing out a laugh. "Half an hour more and I'd be saying good afternoon. We slept for a long time."

"Gosh, really? Wow. Well, I guess that's what sleeping in a bed with a roof over our heads’ll do," I breathed, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and rubbing my eyes, blinking the room back into focus right after. "Crap, we ought'a get going. The camp must be wondering about us."

Arthur let out a breath and finished up what he was writing before closing his journal. "Sure. Rain must'a stopped in the night. We'll just tell 'em we didn't fancy riding in the rain once we found this place."

"Ain't that sorta the truth?" I noted, lips curling. Arthur bobbed his head from side to side. 

"S'pose. I jus' meant we'd leave out the finer details," he smirked. My face heated up and I averted my eyes.

"I should give you your shirt back," I told him, standing up and undoing the few buttons keeping the shirt on me. Arthur got to his feet and approached me as I took the thing off, I offered it out to him without meeting his eyes. Arthur seemed to notice this, catching my elbow and drawing my attention. 

"Are you alright?" He asked, voice going up a note. 

"Of course," I said, looking up at him. He kept me there for a few moments, searching my eyes with a light frown on his features.

"You feelin' okay about what happened yesterday?"

"Sure," I puffed out a little laugh, dodging his eyes again. 

"Sure?" I could see him recoil a little from the corner of my eye. 

"I mean, yes. I'm sorry, I don't know how you want me to say it. I'm a little embarrassed, can I get dressed?"

"Sorry," he let go of me, "embarrassed?" he repeated as he dressed in his shirt.

"It's easier doin' it than talking about it," I admitted, picking my blouse up from the bed and pulling it on. "I… I enjoyed myself, if that's what you're wondering. And I don't at all regret it."

"Oh, good," he breathed out in relief. "Y' had me worried there."

"I did? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," I turned and offered him a smile as I finished buttoning my blouse. He took my arms in his hands again and pulled me closer, with his face inches from mine his mouth hung open, as if waiting to say something. 

It was a long while before he finally spoke. "I want you to know that what happened yesterday meant somethin' to me. Ain't just messing around for the sake of it. An' you've nothing to be embarrassed about."

"It meant something to me too. A whole lot," I nodded. "As for my embarrassment, I'm sure I'll get used to it," I flashed him a cheeky grin and he exhaled sharply with his amusement. 

"I still ain't quite wrapped my head 'round why you're letting me get away with all this," he shook his head, leaning in and cupping the back of my head. 

"Why wouldn't I? I like you an awful lot," I lifted one shoulder in a light shrug, my eyes falling closed as I felt his breath on my lips.

"Ain't quite swallowed that, neither," he said, but it didn't stop him from kissing me, all soft and slow and tender. The smack of our lips and our quaking breaths filled the otherwise silent room. I was already asking myself how long we could get away with staying here, thinking of how nice it would be to have his hands on me again. Perhaps I'd touch him this time, have him teach me how to please him. 

Or we could just keep kissing. That was entirely nice enough on its own. 

The two of us jumped and spun around at the sound of the door opening, Arthur drawing his revolver and swinging it at the intruder with such speed and practised ease it caught me off guard, especially when his free arm pushed me behind him protectively. I didn't even have time to see who it was before Arthur was sighing, breath coming heavy but his shoulders dropping, revolver put back in his holster.

"Jesus Christ, Marston. Almost put a bullet in you," he hissed, letting me step out from behind him. John stood there, looking between the two of us with widened eyes. 

"Sorry, didn't mean to catch you with your guard down. Saw the horses outside, I been yellin', you didn't hear me?" He said, his shock soon turning into amusement. 

"Clearly not," Arthur sighed and slumped down on the bed as his heart rate slowed. 

"Course not, too distracted," he smirked. "See why we didn't see you get back last night. Charles said something about a horseshoe, didn't think it'd take that long. I said I'd come out and check you hadn't been strung up by the raiders or somethin'."

"Yeah, well, it was hammering it down outside. Didn't wanna ride in that with this perfectly good shelter, figured you'd do without us jus' fine for one measly night," Arthur grumbled. "Turns out y' can't even manage that."

"Relax," John tutted, glancing at me. "You're awful quiet. Sorry for barging in on you two, I had no idea it was like that."

"And here I was hoping you might not've seen," I laughed tensely, strolling over to retrieve my hat from its spot on the table. 

"I saw enough," John nodded, smirking like the cat that got the cream.

"Leave it be, will you, Marston? This thing ain't been going on five minutes, I reckon we deserve a little privacy," Arthur warned, about as happy as I was to have our relationship uncovered. 

"Was the horseshoe story even real? Or did you pay Charles to tell us that?" He smirked.

"Course it was real, dumbass. Charles don't even know," Arthur glared across the room at John, far from amused. I winced. 

"Actually," I said meekly, and Arthur looked up at me. "Charles does know. He saw–" I stopped myself, knowing if I mentioned leaving Arthur's tent it'd only come across the wrong way. "He guessed."

Arthur stared at me for a little while but shrugged it off in the end, shaking his head. 

"Never mind. Rayna really did lose a shoe, we should stop off at the stables before we head back to camp, get her a new set put on. There's one not far away," Arthur said, getting up and donning his hat. He headed out, gesturing for us all to follow. 

I grabbed my saddle and the bearskin from by the door and headed outside, saddling up Rayna and getting her ready to ride. I gathered up the tent that John had lent me, handing it to him. "Before I forget," I said. "Thanks for letting me borrow it."

"No worries," he nodded, putting it away on his own horse. 

The three of us mounted up and Arthur led the way, the road was quiet enough that we could afford to ride abreast, and I ended up in the middle. 

"When we get back, we ought'a go get those horses," John called to Arthur, who merely hummed in response.

"Horses?" I asked, glancing at him. 

"The Braithwaites' horses. Supposed to be worth a lot, the Grays apparently know where we can sell 'em and get the best price," John explained.

"So you're stealing them?" I cocked a brow. Neither of the men said anything, and I shrugged it off. "Alright then. Anything I can do?"

"We got this one covered. And I know Pearson's missing your help with the food, he likes you a damn sight better than Mrs. Adler, that's for sure," John laughed, then paused to think for a second. "But if you're itching for something else to do, the girls were talking about going into Rhodes soon, see what they can swindle the drunkards out of at the Parlour House."

"Oh yeah?" I looked over at him with interest. 

"Picking pockets while the fellers're inebriated. Reckon you're up for that? I'll be there, hanging around in case anything happens an' you need some muscle," John explained, and I heard Arthur snort behind me. 

"Muscle," he repeated snarkily. 

"Oh, screw you," John bickered back, and I rolled my eyes.

"Sure," I said, breaking up their tiff before it went any further. "I can do that."

"Alright, we'll be going tomorrow night, I reckon," John replied, flashing me a smile. 

We rode the rest of the way to the stables, and I paid the farrier for a new set of horseshoes. We decided to wait for him to do the work rather than leaving only to have to come back later. I told John that he could go back to camp, he didn't need to wait around with us. Heck, Arthur could leave too. They both insisted on staying, though, Arthur because he was a gentleman and John because he didn't want to leave us, thinking we might run off and need hunting down again. He was only half joking, I could tell. He kept his distance from us, however, pacing around a little way away and smoking a cigarette while Arthur and I sat up against the paddock fence by the stables.

He had his arm draped around my shoulders and was munching on a chunk of bread; he'd offered some to me, though I'd declined. I watched John walking back and forth aimlessly, seeming bored and restless. I wondered why he wasn't just sitting with us, and took a breath before speaking. 

"Arthur, how come you and John don't get along too well?"

"Huh? John and I?" He queried with his mouth full. 

"Yeah. You tease him, and he takes it to heart, I reckon. Seems like the guy can't catch a break, between that and his fighting with Abigail. He do something?" I tilted my head to look at him. He was holding the bread up just in front of his mouth, but he'd stopped chewing, suddenly locked in his mind. I waited silently for him to figure out his answer.

"Yeah, you could say that. He's a dumbass. That's about all there is to it," he shrugged. I frowned and looked back towards John. 

"That's it?" I said in disbelief. Arthur retracted his arm with a sigh and sat forwards, leaning his elbows on his knees. 

"No. John left us. For a while, I mean, a long while. Just upped and left without a word, Jack was so young. He left Abigail on her own with him and… and deserted Dutch and Hosea. Me," he huffed in irritation. "Comes strolling back in, like nothing even happened. Expects us all to just welcome him with open arms, kiss his ass. Well it don't sit right with me 'm afraid."

I looked back at Arthur, my brows raising at his words. I found it hard to imagine, but I didn't doubt Arthur's sincerity. 

"When we was kids he was like a little brother to me," he told me, glancing over his shoulder at me.

"If you looked more alike, I might've thought you really were brothers. With all your bickering," I pointed out. "Worse than me and Henry when we were little."

Arthur chuckled a little at that. "Yeah, well, I guess I just ain't quite forgiven him; 'least I'm tryin'a be civil with him. When he first turned up I couldn't stand being within five feet of the little weasel."

"You reckon you'll ever forgive him?" I asked. 

"I don't know. Maybe. But he abandoned his family. His woman and his son, just didn't look back and that– that irks me somethin' fierce. Just can't abide it. He could've done anything else and I might've forgotten about it, but this?" He shook his head and made a sound of disgust. 

"That makes you sound like a very honourable man, Arthur."

"I ain't," he scoffed. I shook my head and breathed a small sigh. 

"I don't know. From what I've seen..."

He didn't respond to that and we were both quiet for a long time. Arthur was staring down at his boots, his head seemingly a million miles away, eyes glazed. It occurred to me that perhaps there was more below the surface, something he hadn't shared. I'd have asked him about it, but I knew that he'd tell me if he felt comfortable doing so, and if he wasn't comfortable then there was no point in asking. 

"I–" he began, stalling immediately and remaining quiet for a few moments more before starting again. "I was so mad about it because he was giving something up that I… that I had no choice in losing, in the end. I'm bitter. That's all."

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning and turning my body to face him. He met my eyes, and he looked _sad_. So sad, it caught me off guard. 

"I was a father, long time ago now," he told me. I tried to stifle my surprise but a gasp still escaped. "I had a little boy. Isaac, his name was. His mother and I, we weren't together in the traditional sense. We certainly never planned to start a family together, put it that way."

It made sense. I remembered Arthur expressing his disinterest in one night stands, saying he'd learned the consequences that could arise from that sort of behaviour. This must've been what he was referring to. 

"I was with the gang already back then. You know I've been with Dutch for a long time. I… I chose to stay there. It would've been hard to leave and set up a life, I was a wanted man. Still am, always have been, I guess.

"Well, instead of trying, I made do with visiting 'em every few months, as often as I could. I gave them money, made sure they had enough. I provided for them in the only way I could, even though I knew what Isaac really needed was a father figure. Guilt, it ate me up every time I saw him and still does to this day. I still never did the right thing, though, I regret that. To cut a long story short, they- they're gone. Murdered, both of 'em. I weren't around to save them. I gotta live with that."

"Arthur, I am so sorry," I shook my head, mouth hanging agape and a lump in my throat. How on Earth was one meant to console someone after such a tale? Arthur shook his head and patted my knee, as if to comfort _me._

"Don't… don't. Ain't me who deserves your sorrow."

"I don't know what to say. I'm sorry for putting you in a position where you felt obliged to tell me, if I'd've known–"

"I weren't obliged. I figured I'd tell you sooner or later, this just… I guess it's relevant. I struggle to forgive John, 'cause it don't matter that he saw me so cut up after losing Isaac, after he saw how bad my choice to leave 'em alone turned out, he abandoned his own family anyway. I could just never understand it," he shook his head and I brought my hand to his back, stroking across his shoulder blades. He leaned into my touch and let out a soft breath. 

"I understand. Well, I'll never truly understand your pain and I won't pretend to, but I certainly understand why you'd feel such animosity towards him."

"I don't hate him. I couldn't–" he paused, shaking his head. His eyes looked glossy and I immediately stopped rubbing at his back, opting to grip his hand in mine instead. "I hope one day I can wrap my head around it, maybe if I see him making an effort to right his wrong, like I couldn't. Be something for Jack to look up to, I don't know."

I glanced at John, he'd stopped pacing and was sitting atop a barrel by the stable, watching the farrier work. With a soft sigh, I reached for Arthur's cheek, cupping it and guiding his face to me. He looked at me, his wide eyes still a little shiny with held back tears. I pressed my lips to his forehead, and I heard him swallow thickly. In that moment I was half glad that John knew about us, because if he saw the hug I gave Arthur then, pulling his head in to rest against my chest, the secret would surely be out. 

-

It was dinner time back at camp, everyone was dotted around feasting on Pearson and I's concoction. We'd made some kind of stew with turkey, onions, carrots, celery and potato, seasoning it with a little oregano and cooking down the stock until it was thick and formed a decent sauce. It came out pretty good. Pearson was sat by his station, figuring out what to do with all the bear meat we'd brought him, and he'd stretched the hides over wooden frames to dry them out before further processing. They were out by the edge of camp, and I'd spotted Abigail pulling a curious Jack away from them on multiple occasions.

John had returned to camp a while ago with Javier after selling those horses he'd mentioned. Apparently, he'd been sold a false bill of goods with that tip-off, and they hadn't made nearly as much as they'd been hoping for. It seemed like he wasn't all that surprised, however. The gang seemed used to those kinds of disappointments. 

Arthur hadn't returned with them, he was off doing something else with Sean. Something to do with the Grays’ tobacco fields. I didn't ask too many questions about that; the whole thing with the Grays and the Braithwaites puzzled me, I wasn't entirely sure how they were hoping to make any money out of them. But, that wasn't my area of concern, so I left it be.

After finishing up my food, I rose to my feet from my spot around the campfire and headed to wash up my plate. I took Pearson, Micah and Javier's empty plates too, since they were close by, but I knew as soon as I started washing them, everyone else's plates would silently appear in a pile beside me as if by magic. It didn't bother me at all, washing dishes was oddly therapeutic to me. One of those menial, brainless tasks you can lose yourself in, not have to think too much. Camp was quiet, aside from Dutch's phonograph playing opera across the camp, people were relaxing and sharing quiet conversation over drinks. It was peaceful, and I kept a small smile of contentment on my face. 

"Hey there, want some help drying?" Abigail sidled up to me with a towel in hand, gesturing to the growing pile of washed plates next to me. 

"Sure, thanks Abigail," I nodded, smiling appreciatively. She wordlessly picked up a plate and set to work, staring straight ahead at some of the horses in the distance. We stood together in silence for a little while, just the sloshing of water in my bucket to meet our ears. I was happy to stay like that, but Abigail had other ideas.

"So, John told me something interesting today," she started, and my heart sank.

"He did?" I sighed, that smirk I detected in her voice meant nothing good at all.

"How'd it happen? You take my advice and make the first move, or did he come onto you?" She asked. I was right, of course. 

"John wasn't supposed to say anything," I grumbled, but then it occurred to me that we'd never explicitly told him to keep it to himself. Whatever, it should've gone without saying.

"He wasn't? Crap, I'm sorry. Well, no, I'm not sorry. It's him who should be sorry," she bristled, and I looked up at her to see her brow crease and her hands scrub vigorously at the plate she was drying. Footsteps approached and the devil himself appeared.

"You girls gossiping?" John eyed us up cautiously. He knew what he'd done.

"Not half as much as you, you damn tattletale," I hissed through gritted teeth. 

"Hey, I didn't mean to say nothin', jus' slipped out. Don't worry. Abigail; she won't tell no one, will you?" He gave her a stern look and she rolled her eyes and scoffed. 

"’Course I won't. You ain't gotta worry about that, who would I tell anyway? Jack? I barely speak to anyone else these days, considerin' I'm raising the boy all on my own," she snipped, voice like the crack of a whip and twice as cutting.

"Oh, please, don't start," John groaned, long suffering and tired.

"Don't take that tone, John Marston. Or put on that face that makes me wanna do nothin' else but smack it. You wouldn't be so mad if you didn't know it was true."

"This ain't about us! Why's everything gotta come back to _this?_ "

"Cause she don't want anyone knowing, thought it best I changed the subject," Abigail retaliated, tone a little like she was taking the moral high ground.

"She don't want anyone knowing what?" Uncle appeared out of thin air, waddling into my periphery. I groaned and hung my head between my shoulders, dropping a plate into the bucket with a splash and a thunk. The others went quiet, nobody prepared to say anything. "We don't keep secrets in this camp, little lady. Spit it out."

I gnawed on my bottom lip, staring into the cloudy dishwater. 

"It's my birthday coming up next month," I told him, putting my bullshitter skills to good use. "John found out, told Abigail, but I don't want the whole camp knowing. Don't like the attention."

"Is that it?" Uncle sputtered out a laugh. "Here I was thinking it was something big. Hey, don't you be keeping that one quiet. If we throw a party, that's about the only time I can drink myself blind and people don't give me crap for it," he laughed, reaching out and giving my shoulder a playful smack that was way too hard.

"Don't stop you any other day," John quipped. 

"Show your elders some respect, boy," Uncle grumbled, but left it at that and wandered off again, buying my story no problem. I didn't know Uncle particularly well, but I knew that if he found out about Arthur and I, everyone would know in less than five minutes.

"Is it really your birthday next month?" Abigail asked once he was out of earshot. 

"Yeah, luckily. Otherwise I wouldn't've known what to say," I snorted. "Just, keep your mouths shut, both'a you. Please."

"About your birthday, or..?" John queried and I looked up at him with a deadpan expression. He nodded sheepishly. "Sure. Sorry, I really didn't mean to say nothin'."

"It's fine, John. It'll come out sooner or later, it'd just be nice for it to be on our terms."

"I won't say a word," Abigail assured me. "And if he does, don't worry, I'll be borrowing Bill's gelding tongs."

"Yeah, yeah," John breathed, shaking his head and walking away before he could provoke another argument. Abigail laughed impishly to herself, and I smirked as I side-eyed her.

"For the record," Abigail said under her breath, leaning close to me. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks," I smiled, meeting her gaze head on. Her smile turned mischievous. 

"Bet you had a pleasant night, last night," she teased and I rolled my eyes, laughing bashfully. 

I decided not to acknowledge her words, instead opting to scold her playfully. "You helping me dry up, or what?"


	23. Flimflammery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, John and reader run a con together :) This part was inspired a lot by Better Call Saul and some of the scams that Jimmy and Marco would pull in season 1! I love writing this kind of thing :P you’ll notice this story focuses on the jobs reader does as well as the romance plot, I just cant help myself!

I was up first. I brewed the coffee, poured myself a cup, yawned and stretched and rubbed the sleep from my eyes. Draping my blanket around my shoulders and shuffling across the camp towards the horses with my journal tucked under my arm, I glanced towards Arthur's bed. He was curled up on his side, cheek smushed into his pillow, arm hanging off the edge, fast asleep. I smiled, his appearance endearing. I figured he must've gotten back late with Sean after causing whatever mayhem he had at the Gray's, so I left him alone. I couldn't help but think of the Pinkertons, Leviticus Cornwall, the countless people who wanted him dead or locked up, and seeing him looking so peaceful and harmless curled up asleep like that… none of it seemed possible. 

Who on Earth could be mad at a face like that?

I took a drink of coffee as I sat down by the hitching posts. Some of the horses were still sleeping, including Rayna, bless her. But Jet was awake, chewing his way through a bale of hay, tale flicking, ears twitching. He looked up at me once, decided I wasn't enough of a distraction, and carried on eating. I put my coffee down beside me, pressing the tin cup into the grass until it felt stable enough to leave, then opened up my journal, ready to draw Arthur's gift. I did a couple of warm up sketches; I'd never really drawn horses before, so this would be interesting. I did a couple of little doodles of Rayna first, considering she was asleep and I figured I'd do better without a moving target. 

I approached it the same way I would a portrait, blocking in her basic shape, putting down a few guidelines to plan where her eyes would go, then her ears, her nose, the curve of her neck and the scruff of her mane. I made a mental note to give her a thorough brush later, then sketched away. I produced a few little drawings. Some of just her head, some of her full body. I was certainly doing better with the close ups of her face; proof that I shouldn't run before I could walk. I filled up two pages, remembering to drink my coffee before it went cold. 

Once I felt comfortable with the subject matter, I turned to a fresh page and studied Jet for a while, noting the markings on his face; a white splodge right between his eyes. In the early morning light his coat looked very close to black, but as the sun moved further up in the sky, it hit him and picked out plummy tones on all his high points. I started drawing him, just his head, where he was swooping down to the water trough, noisily slurping away. I took my time just like Arthur advised, keeping my eyes on him as my hand moved slowly across the page to capture the roundness of his jawbone, all the way along the straight plain towards his muzzle. Fully warmed up to the action, I found myself able to look at him more than my page, just like Arthur did that day in Scarlett Meadows. He was rubbing off on me. 

I put a lot into the drawing, very tempted to start again on numerous occasions. I forced myself to keep at it rather than wasting paper, knowing that nothing was set in stone and I could tweak as I needed, rework areas until they satisfied. Jet began to emerge from the page, not just any horse, but him, and I was pleased with my tenacity as I created something I was genuinely proud of. I hoped that Arthur would be proud too, once I gave it to him. 

Pleased with my efforts, I leaned back against the hitching post and settled down to finish my coffee, chewing through a biscuit from the almost empty tin I'd snagged from Pearson's wagon. I enjoyed the early morning solitude, but I could hear movement across the camp as Pearson started his work for the day, butchering up that bear meat, ready to cook slowly throughout the day to keep it tender. I leaned my head back against the post and closed my eyes, taking a deep, still breath and listening to the wind in the trees. Just taking a moment of peace before the day truly began. Susan would be up and about soon, and she'd find something for me to do.

She was a lovely lady, but I'd soon learned that she didn't take kindly to layabouts. You had to earn your right to sit down and relax, with her sniffing about, so every day it was a challenge to have her catch you doing something worthy of some downtime in the evening. Otherwise, there was hell to pay. 

"Morning, sunshine," the voice caught me by surprise and my eyes snapped open, settling on Arthur's dominating figure blocking the cloudless sky behind him. 

"Arthur. Good morning," I smiled at him, patting the space beside me. 

"Keepin' the horses company?" He mused as he sat down cross-legged next to me. He blew across the top of his coffee before taking a tentative sip. I hummed my affirmation, nodding and glancing out at the animals.

"Well, my coffee buddy was sleeping, so," I told him, and he chuckled. "Exciting night?"

"One way of saying it," he tutted, huffing in mild amusement. "If committing arson is your idea of excitement."

"Well, depends what I'm setting fire to," I joked. "Boxes full'a dynamite are always a good time. Just gotta remember to stand well back." 

"Yeah? What do you reckon to fields of tobacco?"

"Hmm, I'd say that's at least a little exciting."

"Well, you should've been there last night," he laughed. I smiled, eyes lingering on him even when he looked away. I tapped on the tin of biscuits and he took one, crumbs catching in the stubble that he was yet to shave. 

I thought about Isaac, his son, and tried to imagine Arthur as a father. I'd never seen him in that light before, but I could imagine him being good at it. Not that I had any desire to test the theory, I thought, blushing at the very idea. 

It was as if he was reading my mind, with his next words. "I was thinking, last night, laying in bed. I'm glad I told you about Isaac. I don't speak about him much – at all, really – don't wanna bother folk with it. None o' these ever met him," he made a vague gesture to the camp. "They never mourned him, so I felt like a nuisance bringing it up, dragging people into my suffering. But telling you…"

He looked at me, really looked at me, in the eye. It always pulled me out of something when he met my eyes so intensely, as if I forgot the world was real until those moments. 

"I figured, if we're doing this. If we're starting something together, then, you ought to know me. My pain, and all," he continued. "I hope that I can do the same for you, listen to your hardships. You're just like me; lost just about everyone. You put on a brave face, but you don't have to. Not with me, at least."

"Thank you," I told him under my breath, reaching to squeeze his knee. I took his words to heart, and after a moment I sighed softly and spoke. "I miss my father a lot more than I let on."

"Your father?" He repeated. I hummed and nodded.

"I take after him a lot. I loved my mother, of course, but she drank a lot. I didn't notice as a child but as I grew up, I reckon that drove a wedge between us. She never remembered anything I told her, was like having the same conversations every day, stopped me from really knowing her, and her me, I think," I shrugged, then smiled. "But my pa, he used to take me out riding, put me up front on his horse, and we'd sing songs together on the road."

Arthur smiled too, eyes still fixed on me. 

"I miss that. More than anything, I do. But I try to miss it in a way that makes me happy to remember it, instead of sad that it's been and gone, you know?" I looked up in time to see his brows raise thoughtfully.

"That's a pleasant way of thinking, you got there. Something I'll try and keep in mind myself," he nodded. He chuckled and looked up to the sky absentmindedly. "I remember the time I went to see Isaac and Eliza, after he'd started walking. Kid came stumbling out the house when I showed up and you know what I did?"

"What?"

"I burst into tears. I weren't sad. I don't know what came over me, just seeing him growing up, doing stuff for himself, it made me so proud, ain’t ever felt anything like it. Eliza laughed at me, not being malicious or nothin', I just don't think she expected it. Anyway, that's one'a my most treasured memories."

"It's an honour that you shared it with me, then," I told him, stroking my hand across the top of his thigh. He put his hand over mine, stilling it and squeezing my fingers. “I’m glad that you have those memories.”

“Me too. If memories is all I have, I’m grateful for ‘em,” he told me. I glanced over towards Pearson, checking his view of us was obscured before I leaned across and kissed Arthur’s cheek. 

He caught me before I moved back, capturing my lips in a true kiss, one that was quick and risky but just as sweet as they always were. When it ended, we remained close, sharing breath between us and enjoying the moment, despite pushing our luck.

“Been thinkin’ about the other night, a lot,” he whispered. Tone timid, yet there was a look in his eyes that smouldered and dared. I pressed my lips together, letting my eyes drop to his mouth. “Can barely believe my luck.”

“Luck’s got nothing to do with it,” I exhaled a laugh, a sharp shake of my head. Arthur smiled, licking his lips, tongue just barely ghosting over mine and making my breath stutter. “I ain’t quite sure what you mean by that.”

“Lady like you? And it's me who gets to see her like that?”

“Shhh,” I said softly, shaking my head. “You don't need to flatter me, Arthur, you’ve already got me.”

“I’m doin’ no such thing. I mean it, I sure ain’t done anything deserving of this good fortune, you know my life,” he told me through a breathy laugh. I leaned away from him, shaking my head again with a tut. 

“Well, you better wrap your head around it, or get used to it, or something. I don't plan on that being a one off.”

“Oh?” the sound was playful, musical even.

“Mhm,” I nodded, keeping my eyes on the ground in front of me, fire igniting in my belly and, of course, my face. Arthur hummed softly, fingers reaching to brush some of my hair back. He came close and hovered there, mouth inches from my neck. 

Footsteps, light but graceless, scuffing to a stop just a little way away. Arthur’s head snapped up to their owner, and I gingerly took a peek to my left. It was the feller Mary-Beth had been mingling with a fair bit, Kieran. My conversations with him had been few and far between, mostly small talk when we were both tending to the horses; but he seemed like a nice enough guy. Always really timid, though, especially then. His eyes were locked on Arthur’s and he looked ready to wet himself. 

“Mind your goddamn business, O’Driscoll. And keep your mouth shut,” Arthur’s voice was dark, gruff and downright chilling. I hadn’t heard anything close to it since the first time I’d seen him at Horseshoe Overlook, and he’d been yelling at Strauss. It rose goosebumps on my arms and made me feel something in the pit of my gut that would’ve been fear if it was directed at me, instead it was a sort of exhilaration.

Kieran visibly gulped before giving a jerky nod and carrying on his way. I had no idea what the issue between the two men – well, between Kieran and most of the camp – was. It wasn't the best time to ask, however.

Arthur sighed loudly and leaned away from me. I couldn't help but let a small giggle escape, prompting a quizzical look from him.

“We’re not doing well with the whole ‘keeping this to ourselves’ thing, are we?” I said. Arthur scrubbed a hand over his face, releasing a tenuous groan. “Which reminds me. Abigail knows,” I added through another laugh.

“I don’t mind you telling your friends,” he shrugged.

“It wasn't me,” I gave him a look and his expression soured when the penny dropped.

“Dumb as rocks, no good, little bastard–”

“Hey, come on. Don't be like that.”

“Sticking his oar in–”

“Arthur,” I said sharply, capturing his attention. “Just remember he saved my life.”

“‘Bout the only useful thing he’s done since he dragged his scrawny ass back to us.”

“You don't hate him that bad,” I cocked my head and Arthur shrugged indifferently.

“Anyway,” I said suddenly, changing the subject. I presented my sketchbook to him, dropping it in his lap. “Couple pages in, I drew your boy.”

“You did?” he seemed surprised, opening up the sketchbook and flicking through to the drawing in question. He beamed when he saw it, face breaking into an unrestrained smile. It made my heart thump “Look at that,” he chuckled.

“You like it?”

“You did a fine job on this, of course I like it. Y’ should be proud of yourself,” he patted me on the thigh, began rubbing up and down. “Thank you, princess.”

“You’re most welcome,” I said, preening under his praise just a little. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but his name met my ears from across camp. His hand froze its subtle movement and he looked over his shoulder. A newly risen Dutch was shouting him. He let out a little breath then looked back down at the drawing.

“I better go see what he wants,” he told me, eyes still roaming over the drawing of Jet, thumb kneading the edge of my thigh. “You going out with the girls tonight, that thing John was on about?”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I reckon so,” I nodded. “Are you coming?”

“Ahh, no. I think it's best I avoid that place, last time I was there, Hosea and I caused a little trouble,” he admitted sheepishly, and I didn't ask. “Anyway, you be careful,” he said, giving my thigh one last squeeze.

“I will,” I smiled, seeing him mirror it before he was heading off to see Dutch.

-

Rhodes Parlour House was as pleasant as I remembered it being from the few times I’d been there before. The place was clean and nicely decorated, crisp white table cloths and ornate furniture, a lovely curved staircase dominating the room, a polished bar at the back. Anyone would think we were somewhere like Saint Denis. The place was busy, the piano being played to grace the patrons with a lively tune, men were packed around the bar, others were taking up the tables. Women roamed the place too, but it seemed as though they were looking to make a dollar rather than spend one.

Mary-Beth, Karen and Tilly mingled with the patrons in their own ways; Karen was going solo while the others teamed up together. I was still sat with John, observing as the two of us sat opposite one another in a booth by the entrance. He'd been approached by three different prostitutes, now, prowling like kittens to try and coax him upstairs, and for once I found myself reveling in a perk of being female. Though, I didn't get off completely scot-free, the third of the women eyed me in a way that turned my face cherry pink and made John burst into fits of laughter. Perhaps it was something in my decision to wear pants that evening, despite the other womens' confusion at the choice. 

I'd told them that desirability wouldn't benefit my plan. 

The plan I'd told John all about, explaining that it'd require his assistance. He'd been more than happy to oblige, and now all we needed to do was wait for the right time and the right mark. Lucky for us, a man walked through the doors, dressed to the nines, a lady at least half his age hanging off his arm; fat guy with a perfectly curled moustache, cream coloured suit and a top hat. He looked like money, walked with his gut puffed out a mile ahead of him, and he was sliding into the booth behind us. I shot John a look and he nodded, and I pulled out what was hiding in my satchel. A piece of cloth wrapped around a tiny rock. 

"Alright," I said, not keeping my voice down. "I think I've waited long enough. Do you have my money?"

"Show me the goods, first, then we'll talk money," he replied, leaning back and folding his arms across his chest. I saw the man, who was sitting in the space behind John, turn his head at the mention of the word.

"I showed you. My _money_ , sir," I pressed through gritted teeth, and John sighed heavily. 

"I want another look. Gotta make sure I'm getting the real deal, here," he countered and with a tense sigh I pushed the cloth bundle towards him.

"Alright, one more look, but we agreed a price last week. Remember that," I warned. John unfurled the cloth carefully. He stared down at the small, sandy chip of rock I'd picked up from the edge of Flat Iron Lake, carefully selected, even had little polished parts that shined in the light. It wasn't great, but it'd be good enough for someone with an untrained eye and under the bar's dim light.

John picked it up and held it up to the light, arm stretching out of the booth as he made a show of inspecting it. All the while I could see the guy in the seat behind him taking curious peeks over his shoulder. John made a humming sound, and sucked on his bottom lip for a while, making me wait for some kind of response. 

"A hundred," he finally muttered.

"Excuse me?" I scoffed. "We agreed on two. And I know damn well even _that's_ generous."

"I'm sorry? Who's the expert?" John snorted, putting the stone back down on the cloth and cocking a brow at me.

"I don't care to listen about your education again, sir. Two hundred," I smacked a hand on the table, and the mark finally made his move, slinking out of the booth.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I can't help but overhear your conversation. This feller trying to go back on a done deal?" He questioned, leaning his palm on the table, back to John, effectively cutting him out.

"Damn right he is," I hissed, jabbing a finger in John's direction in disgust. 

"Maybe I can be of assistance? I'm somewhat of a businessman myself," he said proudly.

"I don't know. I doubt you'll know much about it, unless you're a gemstone expert," I shrugged, shifting in my seat and reaching under the triangle created by his arm and his body to fetch back the rock.

"I ain't an expert in gemstones, but I don't need to be to help you two figure out a good deal. For a cut, of course," he smirked, straightening up again. "What'chu got here?"

I paused for a while, not wanting to appear too eager. I sighed, finally answering; "Australian opal. Mined it myself, this is the last of my lot. Trouble is, I come back to the US for a family matter and I've got every man and his dog trying to swindle me out of a fair deal. This feller's the third."

"Opal? Huh. That dull thing?"

"It's unpolished, of course. They don't come out the ground wrapped in gold ready to go on a lady's finger, you know," I narrowed my eyes at him and he nodded thoughtfully. He picked it up, and I flinched for show. He eyed up my reaction, then put it back down.

"Two hundred, you settled on? What's the issue?" He turned to John.

"No issue, friend. Just doing business. I'm sure you understand, being a businessman yourself," John shrugged. The man looked him up and down. 

"You don't look like the type to be walking around with two hundred dollars in your back pocket," he sneered and John snorted, shaking his head. 

"How'd you think I manage to keep it there? Feller like you, flaunting it, surprised someone ain't tried robbing you yet," John retaliated, and I very nearly laughed. The man hummed, considering his point. "Anyway, no one asked you. Get out of here. Best I can do is one-fifty, ma'am. Take it or leave it."

"I sold chips half this size in Saint Denis for three hundred. I ain't taking no less than two hundred," I wrapped up the stone and pocketed it. 

"Thought you needed fast money," John said, leaning his elbows on the table. The man stayed put, watching the exchange. 

"Not that fast, I ain't willing to get totally ripped off. Two hundred."

"You keep saying that, ain't gonna make the money appear," he laughed, shaking his head at me. I narrowed my eyes. 

"I've got fifty dollars on me, should be buying my wife a fancy new frock from Saint Denis tomorrow, but she can wait. Also got a pocket watch worth a hundred or more depending on who you sell it to. Can give you the name of a feller, a collector, he'll pay top dollar," the man suddenly butted in. My belly squeezed in excitement. 

"Didn't I tell you to get out of here? This ain't your deal," John stood up, meeting the guy at eye level. 

"Hang on, that don't sound too bad," I pondered aloud, staring ahead and pursing my lips.

"We shook hands," John spun towards me, brow mashing down angrily. I laughed maliciously.

"Yeah, we did. At two hundred," I purred, enjoying the way the man glanced between us, eating up every word. John gnawed on his bottom lip for a while, leaning down to my level.

"I ain't got that much on me right now. I can do one-seventy," he told me under his breath, but loud enough for the man to hear it.

"I'll throw in my wife's necklace. Gold. Gotta be worth something, right?" Came his bid. 

"Hey, like hell you will!" His wife yelled from the other booth.

"I'll buy you a new one, sweetheart," he called back.

"Stay the hell out of it!" John spat in his face, but the man was ignoring him, his eyes set on me. I hummed, pursing my lips and looking up to the ceiling. 

"Seventy-five, the watch, plus my wife's necklace. You could get, what, at least three hundred out of all that?" He offered, forehead shiny, hands fidgety. I levelled my gaze to his, kept him on his toes for a few long seconds, then offered my hand to him. He grinned and shook it.

"Fuck you!" John yelled, storming out of the booth, his shoulder smacking into the guy as he stomped towards the bar. He only laughed, glanced at his wife in time to have a necklace thrown at him, then gathered together my items.

We made the exchange, tucked away our goods, and bid each other a pleasant evening. I sat back in the booth, draining my bottle of beer and smiling to myself, pleased as Punch.


	24. Snowballing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another explicit chapter, guys. Some bickering, some (copious) smut, and some fluff!

"This lady here, Arthur? She's one clever little mare," John gestured to me then clapped Arthur's shoulder as we all climbed off the wagon after an evening of fine work, all of us in high spirits. Arthur had been standing guard for the evening, but handed over to Javier for the night shift just as we arrived. He gave us each a quizzical look, and I shrugged as casually as I could.

"We did well, the girls made off with a few wallets, watches, and the like," I informed him. Dutch and Micah were strolling up to us, investigating the commotion of giggles and cheers. "Karen made a healthy profit at the poker table."

"Sure did. And this one?" John put a hand on top of my head in a way I was sure was meant to be well-natured. "Sold a guy a damn rock for three hundred dollars."

"Well, seventy five, plus a watch and a necklace. Both of which could be worthless, for all we know," I corrected and John let out a wheeze of a laugh. 

"Not half as worthless as what he made off with," he grinned and I dodged out from under his hand, smirking bashfully. 

"It was teamwork," I said, strolling away to distance myself from all the attention. I headed towards Dutch, pulling out the remaining cash after John's cut, peeling away most of it but keeping some for myself. I pushed it into his hand, along with the necklace and the watch. He stared at me in surprise, then glanced at Micah. "John played a good shitty businessman. Sore loser, too," I added, spinning back around to flash him a smirk before heading off into camp. 

"Hold on," Dutch called out to me. I turned to him, stomach dropping. "Good work. You're turning out to be a nice little addition to our family," he nodded, waving the cash at me. Relief filled me, as well as a sense of pride.

"Yeah, real nice," Micah added, tone low, eyes trailing up and down my form. 

"You're welcome, I guess," I chuckled awkwardly. I finally got away, plucked an apple from Pearson's wagon and bit into it. 

"You really are quite the con lady, huh, missy?" Micah appeared behind me, bottle of gin in his hand, a cocky swagger to his walk only slightly put off balance by the alcohol so evidently in his system.

"I suppose," I shrugged, chewing through the apple. 

"Clever girl. How'd you do it?" He asked, coming to lean up against the butchering table right next to me. 

"A little role-playing," I told him, tone light and casual. "It weren't nothing complicated, just made out like John was trying to buy it and the guy did the rest of the work himself."

"A rock," he snorted, bristles of his moustache shifting, curving up with a smirk.

"Yep. A rock, just picked it up off the ground."

"Three hundred dollars."

"If we're lucky."

"Wow," he exhaled, then took a swig of gin. "You and me. We should go out conning together."

"Mhm?" I hummed non-committally, distracting myself with my apple.

"Sure, with your looks and my brains, we could pull something off," he said, leaning in.

"I thought I was the clever one?" I snorted. He chuckled lowly, sneering just a little.

"Alright. With my looks and _your_ brains," he rephrased, then snatched the apple from my hand, taking a bite out of the same place I had, before slotting it back between my fingers. I stared at him, face flat and the furthest thing from impressed. "I find your work ethic real attractive, you know that?"

"Is that right?" I mused flatly, and suddenly he was being pulled back by his arm. He grunted and hopped on one foot as he was dragged away, out of balance. Arthur made sure he was a comfortable distance from me before righting him on his feet and pressing a fresh apple into his palm.

"Apples are over here, jackass," he grumbled into his face before sauntering past him towards me.

"Fuck you, Morgan. She ain't right for a lily-livered boy like you, run along and draw some pretty flowers," Micah snipped, staggering a step forwards and hurling the apple at Arthur's back. It bounced off with a thud and rolled across the grass, landing by Micah's feet.

I saw Arthur's face wilt in annoyance, lip twitching. He plucked the half eaten apple from my hand – I sure as hell wasn't finishing it – and spun, launching the thing like a damn shot-put at Micah's head. The thing burst open on contact, showering the area with lumps of apple. I might've laughed at the visual, but Micah _went_ for him, crying out like some sort of animal, arms flailing, gin dropping to the floor and soaking into the mud. He'd just gathered purchase on Arthur's shirt, but he was drunk, and was easily peeled off and pushed to the ground. I half expected Arthur to land a few punches, maybe a kick, but he didn't. He backed away, tutting and shaking his head.

"Sleep it off, you fool," and there was that angry tone again, deep and gritty, rocks grinding against concrete. It made a pulse surge through my body, landing right between my thighs. Wow, that was unexpected.

Micah groaned, rolling over and dragging himself up. He didn't seem to fancy making any more of a fool of himself, and skulked off without another word. Arthur turned to me, scanned my face, his own expression shifting to mild shame.

"I'm sorry, princess," he said to me very quietly.

"Follow me," I replied, turning and striding off. Silence for a few moments, followed by his dragging feet. Perhaps he thought I was angry? I let him think that, leading him out of camp, off parallel to the lake towards a dense patch of trees. It was dark, late in the evening, a lot of the camp was sleeping anyway but I wanted to get away from there.

I waited until we were well concealed then spun around, crashing against him and wrapping my arms around his neck, kissing him hard. He did not seem to anticipate it, jerking and grunting, hands catching my waist. He settled soon enough, kissing me back with just as much heat, groaning and walking his hips forwards, pressing our bodies close. Our kiss was loud, breathy, fervid. I gripped onto the back of his shirt, practically hanging off of him as his hold on me tightened, effectively lifting me up. He made small humming sounds, like he was trying to communicate something, I wasn't smart enough to figure out what but he was prising me off of him far too soon.

"Hey, hey," he puffed, out of breath, "what're you doing?" He asked, but he didn't sound upset about it.

"I'm sorry, I had to. You– Christ, you do something to me when you talk like that," I admitted to him, forehead pressed to his, hands roaming up and down his back, fingers finding ridges of muscle.

"Like what?" He laughed, stroking up my sides, around to my back.

"Like you spoke to Micah," I added and he seemed to understand, hands stilling. He didn't say anything else, and I kissed him again, walking him back against a nearby tree. He let me continue for quite some time, not putting up a fight to my over-eager hands exploring his upper body, fingers slipping through the opening of his shirt and the union suit underneath just enough to drag across bare skin and chest hair.

"Mm– w-wait, hold on–" he stammered then, forcing our lips to part. "Where is this going, exactly?" He asked me, panting.

I stalled, breath leaving me like I'd been punched in the gut. I looked around, reminded of where we were. I wanted to do so much to him, a whole novel's worth of things, in fact. But not there, not like that. Though, I was not about to leave him hanging. 

I dipped my head under his chin, resting the top of it against his collar bone as my hands went to his belt buckle, unfastening it. Arthur's breath picked up, he let me undo his belt and lower it to the ground, guns and all. He also let me unfasten his jeans, my knuckles brushing the stiff bulge in the front and making his body tense. I bit down on my lip, keeping my gaze focused straight down as I slid a shaky hand inside, cupping him through his union suit. My body throbbed needily when I touched him, feeling the outline of his erection, the warmth of it, the way it moved under my hand – and that was a surprise – as it grew harder. 

I gave it a few experimental rubs, grinding my palm up and down, hearing Arthur's responsive moans, feeling his hips press forwards.

"Angel…" he breathed. His own hands moving to my front, brushing down over the buttons of my blouse before reaching my pants, unfastening them and pushing inside, into my drawers. His fingers met my core and I opened my mouth, an almost soundless moan escaping as I shifted my head to rest on his shoulder.

I pulled myself together long enough to pluck open the bottom buttons of his union suit, bravely sticking my hand inside, wrapping it around him and drawing his length out. Arthur hissed, hips bucking. 

"Tell me what to do," I breathed, earning a whine and a kiss to the side of my head. 

"J-jus' move your hand, yeah, like that… Christ almighty," he puffed, head knocking back against the tree trunk. 

I stroked my hand back and forth, feeling the skin shift in a way I hadn't been expecting, and held him looser as a result. 

"No, that's… that's right. You can hold tighter than that, I ain't that delicate," he told me, and I adjusted my grip, looking down as I stroked his foreskin back and forth over the head, hearing Arthur's groans pick up as I did. His hand had gone lax in my pants, but I didn't mind.

My fingers barely met my thumb where they wrapped around him, and I shamelessly looked down to watch my ministrations. It was dark, but I could still watch his hips drive forward, his cock disappearing and emerging from the ring of my hand with our movements. It made me shiver, and I was grateful when Arthur seemed to remember himself and began stroking me again, fingers sliding through my slickness before settling on the bud of pure bliss that had me groaning and twisting my face into his neck.

"You like this? You're so…" he trailed off, and I hummed against him. 

"I'm so what?" I asked. So bad? So good? I needed to know.

"Wet," he answered, surprising me. "You're real turned on," he added, his voice so deep and sensual. 

"Yes," I breathed, "of course I am."

"All for me?" He lilted, voice curling up, though it was small and timid, even.

"For you," I affirmed, pressing my lips to his neck, right at his pulse, feeling it race. 

Arthur mewled, a shaky, vulnerable sound, when I moved my hand faster. He did the same, rolling the nub under his first and second finger in quick tight circles, making my breath hitch and my peak draw in fast and powerful. I felt so good with my hand wrapped around him, listening to his sounds, out there among the trees where no one could hear us but each other. 

I lifted my head so I could kiss him, indulging in the sensation of his plush lips working with mine; a little sloppy and distracted but it felt so _nice_. I moaned, all high pitched and indecent and Arthur swallowed it up, returned it with one of his own. Much deeper. Much gruffer. So, incredibly sexy.

The head of his length grew slick, dampening my hand as I dragged it up and over, and I drew the slick back down. It made my strokes slide easier, and Arthur seemed to like the sensation an awful lot, going rigid and arching his back, hips rocking forwards to thrust into my hand, his own fingers going lax once again. The man seemed unable to multitask when it came to receiving pleasure, and I couldn't help but smile against his mouth in mild amusement at the fact. 

"Ohh, fu– you're gonna make me cum," he rasped, words jagged and raw. His hand gave the odd rub between my legs, like he was trying but struggling to focus on the task. I was far from upset about it, it was oddly endearing. His words were enough to send pleasure to my belly, anyway.

I tilted my head down, wanting to watch. Little hiccuppy sounds escaped him, his breath jerky and fast. I slid my free hand down his arm, covering his hand and pushing it more firmly against me so I could grind. He made a small, breathy apology, I shushed him gently and giggled. I leaned into him, raising up and down just a bit, rubbing myself against his hand indecently, something he seemed to enjoy a lot given his loud moan and his whispers of praise. He moved his hand down, two fingers slipping easily inside me, palm pressing against my clit; it gave me a lot more to work with and I gasped as I practically rode his hand. 

Arthur rumbled a sensuous chuckle, "mm, that's dirty," he hummed and I flushed.

I tried focusing my hand at the tip of his length, since judging by his reactions, he liked that part the best. The effect was immediate, there was a sharp inhale and his body stiffened. His sounds stopped and his mouth hung open, and there was a period of stillness before he released everything; muscles relaxing, drawn out moans flowing freely, sighs of my name, praise, thank yous, the works. His cock spurted in my hand, pumping in bursts, getting all over my knuckles before dropping onto the grassy floor below. My lips parted as I watched; it was so incredibly erotic, I was shocked by how much I enjoyed the show, how much I could indulge in his pleasure.

Arthur curled his fingers inside me, pressing firmly against a certain spot and prompting me to move more solidly against him, chasing my own release. Once he came back down to Earth, Arthur was far more attentive with his hand and helped me out, jerking at the elbow to rut his hand against me in time with my own motions. He was panting into my ear, whispering to me. 

"That's nice, beautiful. You know, you're giving me a hell of a lot to keep me up at night with all those sounds you making," it was muffled against my temple, and so, so dirty. "All I can think about is how you'll feel if I get to have you for real, you feel real nice on my fingers, squeezin' me like you are."

"Fuck, Arthur," I choked, turning my head and involuntarily biting into his shoulder; not hard, but enough to get a guttural reaction from him.

"You like me talking like this?" He asked me, and it was then I realised just how similar this gruff, deep tone of his was to the one he used when he was angry, the one he knew I liked. Though here, it was stirred in with a little sweetness, just for me.

The realisation that he was trying to turn me on, rile me up using his voice like that, knocked the breath from me. I came on his fingers, sobbing at the intensity of it, feeling my wetness on his hand as he moved it faster through my orgasm. 

"I take it you do," he chuckled, wringing the pleasure from me, easing me down from my peak with a gradual slow of his movements. 

When it was over there was a split second where I wanted more, I wanted to push him down to the ground and sink onto him, ride him until we were sighing and cumming all over again. It passed quickly, though, when I opened up my eyes to our wooded surroundings, and I realised my hand was still loosely wrapped around his now flaccid member. I wouldn't be riding anything, out there. I wanted a nice warm bed in a room to ourselves, then Arthur could do whatever the hell he wanted to me, and I'd be in heaven.

"Princess," he whispered to me, withdrawing his fingers and stroking them up and down my slit ever so gently, coaxing a whimper from me. "You alright?" He asked. 

I peeled my head off his shoulder and met his eyes. It was so dark, but I'd adjusted to it and could see his face easily. He cupped my cheek and kissed me once, chaste. 

I remembered he was waiting for a reply and quickly nodded. "Yes, better than alright," I told him. We stared at each other for a few long moments, a soft smile on our faces. 

Eventually we withdrew from each other, looking at our hands, covered in one another's mess and not quite knowing what to do about it. I wheezed a laugh before grabbing his arm and tugging him out of the woods and to the lake. We cleaned ourselves up there and adjusted our clothing, making ourselves presentable. 

"I don't wanna go back," Arthur told me after splashing cool water on his face. I looked at him. "I can't go back after that, sleep in separate bed rolls without at least a little time to… to just sit with you and soak it up."

"Me neither," I admitted. 

Arthur straightened up, taking my hand in his and leading me over to a boulder nearby, groaning as he sat down and tugged me with him. I sat, shifting onto one hip as we reclined against the rock. I hooked my leg over his and placed my head on his chest as his arms encircled me. We could see the camp across the water, just a little way around the bank. It was dark, nobody could see us. And even if they could, I wasn't sure Arthur or I even cared at that point.

"Every single day, I like you a bit more," Arthur told me after a moment of peace. "And every day, the amount it increases by gets bigger. I'm snowballing, hard. Scares me sometimes, just how fast it's happening, but… I don't mind at all."

I turned my head, resting my ear against him, hearing his heartbeat. _Thud thud, thud thud_. I opened up his shirt and union suit just enough to rest my hand against his bare chest, nails lightly scratching over the hair there. His words made my heart swell, I felt something completely new.

I left it too long before answering, my mind completely blank. I pushed myself to say _something_. "Don't take my silence as a bad thing. I have no idea what to say to that, all I know is it makes me happy to hear you say it," I whispered.

"I wish I could give you more than this. Constantly surrounded by everyone, having to sneak off to the woods to share a kiss or two. You deserve more," he told me, his fingers skipping up and down my arm, raising the hairs there and tickling ever so slightly.

"I don't deserve nothin', you say that like this ain't already the best thing to ever happen to me," I assured him. 

"You mean that?" He questioned, voice going up at the end.

"Arthur, I ain't ever been so happy," I confessed, hand roaming around under his clothes, fingertips brushing along his collarbone; mapping out his chest in my mind and committing everything about the moment to memory.

Arthur didn't say anything, opting to press a lingering kiss to the top of my head. I lifted my head so I could kiss him, the one we shared was sweet and tender, nothing in it but affection, no lust or neediness for anything more. When it broke, I went right back to resting on his chest, letting out a contented sigh. 

"So," he began after a period of quiet. "Tell me about this three hundred dollar rock."

A smile broke across my face, and I began to recount the story.


	25. Partners Of Sorts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kind of an uneventful chapter, just a bunch of character interactions, but it needed to be there to explain certain things to reader, and to appreciate some of the other characters. I hope it hits a spot, though!   
> Also, I updated all of the chapters to have titles, now! :)

"Hey, Kieran. Can I borrow your brush again? The communal ones keep goin' walk-about."

I'd had a busy morning tending to the horses alongside Kieran; putting out fresh hay, cleaning up after them, maintaining the leather on everyone's saddle. We hadn't spoken much, I figured he was feeling awkward after catching a tender moment between Arthur and I the other morning, but when it came to brushing Rayna's dusty coat, the silence needed breaking. 

Kieran eyed me cautiously, then glanced over his shoulder into camp. I quirked a brow, closing the large gap between us and looking at him expectantly. 

"You ain't using it, are you?" I asked and he shook his head, hastily reaching into his bag and pulling out his brush, tossing it to me. I fumbled with it, but managed to catch it. "Thanks."

I walked back over to Rayna, making a start on brushing her down, starting at her neck. I glanced over at Kieran again, utterly puzzled by his behaviour. We never really chatted like good friends, but the silence was odd. At the very least, we'd throw back and forth mindless small talk about horses. I rather liked it. 

"How's Maggie doing? I heard Lenny say she got a little scratched up on some branches," I called out to him. 

"She's fine," he replied, leaving it at that. I let out a quiet breath and went back to tending to Rayna again for a while. 

"The dust in this place is so clingy, ain't it? You brush it off and it settles right back in," I chuckled, trying again. A small humming sound was all I heard, then he was walking off, going towards The Count, Dutch's horse, who happened to be the furthest away from me of the bunch. I couldn't help but screw my face up a little. _What was his problem?_

I carried on working, brushing out Rayna's coat, getting her looking nice and shiny before untangling her mane and the hair around her hooves. It took me a little while, and I figured I'd earned a break and a drink, so headed over to Kieran to hand him his brush. When he noticed me approaching I saw him mutter something under his breath, and turn his head away a little, looking towards camp once again. I frowned. 

"Here's your brush, Kieran. Thanks," I said, pushing it into his palm with more force than necessary. "Have I done something?"

"I'm sorry, Miss?" He looked back at me, eyes widening a little.

"Have I done something to offend you? You're barely answering me when I speak to you and you're acting all shady," I said, crossing my arms and cocking a hip. 

"No, no, not at all. You ain't done nothin'," he assured me, holding his hands out and looking around. 

"What? What is up with you, looking around like that?" I raised my voice a little out of frustration and he winced. 

"Shh, shh, I'm sorry, I ain't aiming to upset you, Miss, I'm just…" he stopped, sighing and gulping down his nerves. "I just ain't sure it's a good idea, me being seen being friendly with you, is all."

"Huh? Why? Never bothered you before, all we do is chat," I shrugged, perplexed, a little offended, even.

"No, I know, that was before I knew you and- and Mr. Morgan were…" he didn't finish his sentence, voice fizzling out to nothing. I stared at him for a moment, expression vacant.

"What're you going on about?"

"All I'm saying is, I don't wanna make him mad!" He explained, face apologetic, body all jumpy and on edge.

"By talking to me."

"Yes!"

"Huh…" I huffed, clicking my tongue and looking down at the ground. "You're scared of Arthur?" I asked incredulously.

"Yes! I- I- I mean, no, not _scared_ , I don't know! He ain't exactly my best buddy," he shook his head, sighing heavily, starting to brush The Count.

I stared at him for a while, then tutted.

"I don't appreciate you acting like I can't have friends, just 'cause me and Arthur are… the way we are," I muttered. "I'm my own person, you know?"

"Of course, sure, I don't mean anything bad. I'm just trying not to push any of his buttons, you understand, right?" 

"Not really, Arthur's a nice guy, he ain't gonna hurt you," I said, gaining a disbelieving look. "What, you don't think that's the case?"

"I ain't saying anything," he shook his head and grumbled. 

"Relax, O'Driscoll," I snorted, patting him on the shoulder. His eyes widened and he looked at me.

"Oh, not you too," he whined.

"What?" I frowned.

"With the O'Driscoll bullcrap," he explained, "I thought you were better than that."

"But that's your surname, ain't it?" I queried, dumbfounded by his reaction. Everyone called him 'O'Driscoll', just like everyone referred to Arthur as 'Morgan', and John as 'Marston'. Surely.

"No! It ain't my damn surname. Duffy. Kieran Duffy!" He spat, getting all het up.

"Alright! I didn't know! How was I to know? Everyone just calls you that!" I exclaimed, huffing out in annoyance. "Sorry."

"You really don't know why everyone calls me that?" He gave me a look, like I was stupid or something, and I got defensive.

"You know I ain't been here all that long. What, am I supposed to know everyone's life story automatically?" 

"No, I just thought with you gettin' all snuggly with one of the head honchos 'round here, you'd know. The O'Driscolls is one of these folks' worst enemies. Another gang of outlaws. I ran with 'em for a while, well, more like got dragged along," he explained, stopping to take a drink from his canteen. 

"So what'chu doing here?" I asked him in surprise. 

"Your _boyfriend_ captured me, brought me in. They all had me as some sort of prisoner, threatened to slice my nads off if I didn't lead 'em to Colm; the O'Driscoll leader. Long story short, I saved Arthur's hide and I've been staying with you folk ever since. Not like any of 'em wanna let me live it down, despite it all, though."

"You saved Arthur's life?" I breathed, looking at Kieran in a new light. He glanced at me, like it wasn't a big deal. 

"I guess. I shot a guy who was about to paint his porch with his brains. Don't get much thanks for it, though," he shrugged. 

"Well, thank you," I told him. He made a throaty, awkward sound and shook his head, turning away. "For what it's worth, I'll tell Arthur to be kinder to you."

"Oh God, don't. I don't need a woman fighting my battles for me. Uh, no offense. Not that you bein' a woman is–"

"Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut," I deadpanned, cutting off his bumbling sentence. "Thanks for filling me in, anyway."

"No problem," he shrugged. 

"And Kieran? You ain't gotta avoid me. So… don't," I told him and he stared at me for a while before nodding. I smiled at him, then left to pour myself a coffee.

It was just the dregs left over in the pot, so I emptied it out and refilled it, brewing a fresh batch. I poured myself a mug and spotted Miss Grimshaw sitting by herself at the table. I wandered over, gauging her mood before I committed. She was sitting with her forehead in her hands and I frowned, taking the seat opposite her.

"You okay, Miss Grimshaw?" I tentatively asked. She lifted her head promptly.

"Oh! Yes, just fine, thank you darlin'," she answered, but her forehead was pinched. "Well, headache. But I can manage."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Need me to fetch you some water?" 

"Bless you. No, I'm alright," she dismissed.

"Why don't you take your hair down? I find if I have mine up too long, I can get headaches," came my suggestion, to which she chuckled. 

"After I spent time this morning putting it up? No chance," she smiled at me and I shrugged softly, looking down into my mug. 

"Well then, if there's anything on your to-do list, let me know and I'll try and cross it off for you," I offered and she eyed me with suspicion. 

"Alright, what is this?"

"Hmm?"

"You about to ask me for somethin'?"

"What? No! I'm just being friendly. You ain't feeling well," I told her, brow curving in mild offense at the assumption. 

"Oh, well, alright then. When you've finished your coffee you can take a needle and thread to the boys' tent over there," she pointed over to the one closest to the campfire. "Micah put a hole in it last night, boozed up moron."

"Sure," I nodded, bringing my coffee to my lips. Susan glanced up over the top of my head at something and I heard footsteps. 

"Mr. Morgan," she nodded politely in time for him to walk up beside our table. 

"Susan," Arthur nodded back to her, then turned his attention on me. When our eyes met, he flashed me a little smile that reminded me of the night before and set my heart racing. ”My lady,” he addressed me, his tone a little playful. 

I smiled widely, letting my eyes follow him even after he'd peeled his gaze from me to look where he was going. My eyes dropped to his backside of their own accord, and I was momentarily mesmerised by the way his hips moved as he strolled across to his tent. When I finally looked away, I turned to Susan to find her staring at me, full of amusement. I cleared my throat and drank some coffee, averting my eyes.

"You know, you two ain't as sly as you think you are," she said.

I made a confused humming sound, suddenly feeling flustered. 

"You and Arthur. I've seen him staring at you from across the camp. I reckon you're just as bad, though I've caught him doing it many times, now," she informed me, and I gave her a wide eyed look. "Don't pretend you haven't noticed it."

"I haven't," I told her honestly and she gave a tinkly little laugh.

"Sitting together at meal times, spending nights alone together in old abandoned cabins, private little chats down by the lake. You don't think I was born yesterday, do you?" She questioned, and I merely stared at her with parted lips. "You two, you're gettin' to be like two peas in a pod. You'll end up sweet on one another, if it ain't already the case."

I looked down, pressing my lips together. 

"You are, aren't you? My, my, I wasn't sure if it'd happened yet but I knew it was gonna. How long have you been loved up?"

I took a breath, considered my options. Try to deny it; to Susan Grimshaw? Not likely a successful move. Change the subject? Fat chance. I exhaled loudly. 

"Not long," I finally said, and Susan made an excited little cheer, leaning over to pat my hand. 

"I knew it," she was very pleased with herself and I looked her in the eye.

"Can you keep it quiet? We don't want the whole camp knowing just yet. Not that we've been all that lucky with that," I murmured. 

"I ain't surprised," she laughed, "but I'll keep it to myself, don't you worry."

"Thanks, Miss Grimshaw," I said, smiling from across the table. 

"I know the girls gossip. They were practically putting bets on who was gonna end up winning you over," she began, looking distractedly over at where Mary-Beth and Tilly were sitting by the lake, both sewing. "I heard John's name. Arthur's, obviously. Micah."

"Micah," I muttered, shaking my head in bewilderment. 

"Even Javier's name came up."

"What? Christ, what do these women take me for? I spoke to Bill briefly this morning, what about him?" I snorted. 

"Oh, don't mind them. This is exciting to 'em, you forget the rest of us barely leave camp. Ain't sure how you've managed to weasel yourself into leaving all the time, workin' with the men," she said, though it wasn't in the least bit malicious. "Besides beddin' one of 'em."

My mouth opened, and I was momentarily stunned by her words. 

"I ain't bedded anyone, thank you very much," I crowed, loud enough that Pearson looked up from his hissing cauldron. I flushed and dipped my head. 

"You ain't got there yet?" She drawled, loving every moment of making me squirm.

Luckily, a knight in a top hat and an outfit that could rival Dutch's for tricking one into believing the man wearing it wasn't running from the law, appeared beside us to save me. Josiah Trelawny, I had seen the man around camp a few times since Arthur and Charles had gone and saved him from bounty hunters, he'd looked a little worse for wear when he first arrived but he'd sharpened up a lot. He greeted me, calling my name and taking my hand in his and giving it a squeeze as he asked me how I was. He was very charming.

"My dear, Dutch told me all about you this morning; regarding the way in which you work. I hear you're a woman of a little showmanship, not dissimilar to myself. I find it's always helpful to create a narrative, get into character, put on a bit of the old charm," he said to me, taking a seat at the table next to Susan and I. 

"I suppose you could say that," I chuckled.

"Yes, he had John tell me all about your little gemstone story, very nicely done, I must say. And your Jemima Jones performance? A woman after my own heart," he braced a hand on his chest and flashed me a handsome, moustachioed smile.

"Well, I'm better at playing pretend than I am waving a gun around, I gotta contribute in the ways I can," I shrugged my shoulders, flattered all the same. 

"My dear lady, I was considering going out and finding myself a little work today. Might you join me?" He asked and I raised my brows. 

"Oh, I mean, I have some chores here..." I told him, glancing at Susan who was rolling her fingers over her temples. I heard a loud sigh and heavy footfalls.

"Josiah, you ain't sinking your claws into her already, are you? What'chu planning? Send her into town dressed like the court jester, have her put on a show while you go through all the ladies' purses?" It was Arthur, of course. He hadn't strayed too far from me all day, aside from his short trip away from camp with Lenny. I'd heard they'd been out stealing guns.

"Arthur Morgan. Now here is a man of such limited creativity when it comes to these things. He could benefit from a little of our nature rubbing off onto him. Have the two of you worked together yet?"

"Not any big jobs," I admitted. 

"No, but I know she's good at spinning the yarn, could give Dutch a run for his money," Arthur laughed, then waved a hand at me. "Which is funny, 'cause she's all shy until you stick an alias on her and tell her to spout some bull."

I lifted my shoulders sheepishly. 

"I'd like to see you in action," Trelawny said, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Both of you, together. See if we can't get Arthur showing a little finesse. What do you think?"

"Trelawny," Susan shot him a look, but he held his hand up to her in a polite pacification.

"I was thinking; a stagecoach," Trelawny added hopefully, looking between the three of us. 

"No, no, absolutely not," Arthur was quick to respond, holding his hands up and shaking his head. 

"I'm inclined to agree," Susan nodded.

"Why not?" Trelawny barked and I raised my brows. 

"Stagecoaches… they go sour more often than anything," Arthur explained, frowning.

"And did you not hear her? The lady has chores to do. I'm not having another feller start stealing her away, I need her here today," Susan put her foot down, shaking her head.

"Oh, my darling Susan. Can't you spare her for an hour or two? A friend of mine can tip us off, find us something guaranteed to be worth the hassle. We could even cut you in," Trelawny flashed a persuasive smile at her. Susan pursed her lips in thought, but Arthur was having none of it, coming to lean his hands on the table in front of us all.

"Worth the hassle or not, the drivers are always armed to the teeth if there's valuables on board," Arthur scoffed, shaking his head. "I'll rob a stage with you, Trelawny, but she ain't coming," he gestured to me and I frowned. 

"Have a little faith in the lady, won't you?" Trelawny sighed. 

"Faith. Ain't about faith, friend, I got plenty of faith in this woman right here. She's shown she's capable of pulling off a job but this… this ain't it. It goes wrong and bullets start flying? She ain't got no business being in the middle of all that," he shook his head and surprisingly, I didn't feel slighted by his unwillingness to have me along. I was not prepared to do anything that could involve bullets. 

"Well, that's a little dramatic, don't you think?" Trelawny huffed, cocking a brow at Arthur. 

"I ain't being dramatic, I'm being responsible."

"May I speak? Considering it's me you're all talking about," I cocked a brow, "I'm sorry Mr. Trelawny, I don't wanna risk having to use a gun, an' all I got's a rifle," I shook my head and Arthur looked at me, pleasantly surprised by my compliance. 

"That's what I thought. You're an excellent con-woman, but you ain't no killer," Arthur reached over and touched my arm, keeping his hand there and stroking it up and down. "I've robbed stages before, almost all of 'em turn into a bloodbath."

"Perhaps the way you do them, but fair enough, you've made your point. Come along, now, Arthur. We'll make do with the two of us. Let me introduce you to my good friend Alden," Trelawny said, waving his arms about as he rose to his feet and headed off towards his horse, expecting Arthur to follow. He looked a little disgruntled, but I was sure he'd get over it.

"Well then, I'm going to lie down for a little while," Susan said, getting up and gingerly hobbling off.

Arthur stayed with me for a moment and kept his eyes on me, a little concerned.

"I jus' wanna say, you know I ain't doubting you, or stopping you from doing this 'cause I think you can't handle it, right?" He said to me under his breath. 

"No, but I _can't_ handle it," I chuckled good-naturedly. Arthur shook his head.

"I jus' know you ain't like me, I don't wanna force you into something that might push you to doing… doing the shit I do that I ain't proud of. You're better than that," he whispered, leaning a little closer into my space, seeming to forget our surroundings. "You're good, and I wanna keep you that way."

"You say that like you ain't good yourself," I pointed out and he looked down at the table. I knew he was thinking exactly that and I made a frustrated little sound before patting his chest. "I believe you're a good man. Now, back up. People will talk."

"They're already talking," he said, straightening up anyway. There was a little smile on his face. "Hosea knows, by the way, just came out and asked me this morning. Nothing gets past him, the man knows me too well."

"Miss Grimshaw, too," I breathed and Arthur tutted, shoulders dropping a little. 

"What's that, five, six people?"

"I ain't counting," I shrugged and laughed. He shook his head then brushed my cheek affectionately just once.

"I better not keep Trelawny waiting," he said. 

"Okay," I nodded, craving a kiss but knowing I wouldn't get one, sitting in the middle of camp. "Be careful."

"Of course," he smiled, then walked backwards a few steps before finally turning around and jogging towards Jet.

With a gentle sigh I got up. I had a tent to fix and chores to do, and they'd keep me busy for the rest of the day.

-

Arthur never told me he was going to rob Valentine's bank. I didn't find out until it was all done and dusted and Karen was riding back into camp looking well and truly exhilarated, waving a wad of cash around. The others joined soon after, Bill and Lenny, but Arthur was the last to return after a little while. I would've panicked if Strauss hadn't reassured me that he was probably running an errand for him. 

I didn't know why Arthur kept it quiet, and in fact, the more I thought about it the more I suspected that he'd gone out of his way to hide it from me. The whole day he'd kept me busy, giving me some money and asking me to go into Rhodes for him to pick up some things; mainly food for his horse, but also hair pomade, biscuits and gun oil. I'd done so without question, grabbing the opportunity to go into town since I'd been planning on it anyway. I bought myself a revolver while I was out with the money I'd saved from various jobs. I felt a little more secure with it hanging from my hip, since it just wasn't practical to carry around a rifle as my sole form of protection.

The day had seemed fairly ordinary when we woke up and had coffee together. He'd filled me in on how the stagecoach robbery had gone with Trelawny, and despite his worries it had gone off without any casualties. Still, he didn't regret having me stay away, these things were unpredictable. But then Karen had called him over, asking if he was ready, and that's when he'd sent me off into town before I could hear what was going on. Not that I was worried, or even all that eager to know. Arthur had been doing this a lot longer than I had, and it certainly wasn't my place to demand to know what he was doing at all hours of the day. I wouldn't've been mad about it, either.

Which was why it puzzled me that he didn't just tell me. 

When he finally rolled back into camp, he headed straight for the money tin, depositing a wad of cash before heading down to the water's edge and lighting up a cigarette. I finished off what I was doing – washing some dishes – before heading over to him. 

"Karen said you all had a good day today. Came away with a good amount," I started. Arthur jumped a little, looking at me in surprise with his cigarette hanging from his lips. He made a little humming sound in response. "I didn't know that's what you were up to today, I would've wished you luck, or somethin'."

"It's alright," he mumbled. I came to a stop by his side, looking out over the water with a soft smile on my lips. 

"I left your things by your bed, got everything on your list," I told him, then reached into my satchel to pull out his leftover cash.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he replied, then noticed my outstretched hand. "You didn't pick up somethin' for yourself? I gave you a little extra in case you wanted to."

"No. Well, I did, but I paid for it. Got myself a gun, something a little less unwieldy," I giggled, taking his hand in mine and pushing the money into it. He stared at it for a moment, but didn't put it away.

"You should keep this, you did me a favour," he told me. I shrugged my shoulders and laughed, shaking my head. 

"Arthur, I can do you favours without taking payment from time to time. You can just give me a few kisses later to say thanks."

"Alright, I shall. Maybe we'll take a walk later, you and me," his mouth curled and he pocketed the cash, nudging me with his shoulder. 

"That'd be nice," I grinned. 

"Show me this gun of yours," he suggested, gesturing to the new addition to my ensemble; a belt with a holster. I withdrew the weapon, carefully handing it to him. It was a Schofield revolver, standard model, I hadn't bothered with any upgrades or customisation. It'd be wasted on me, considering I was the kind to hope to never use the thing. 

Arthur inspected the gun, turning it over in his hand, pointing it out ahead of him and looking down the sight. "You fired it yet?" He asked. 

"Not yet."

And so, with a cheeky little smile from Arthur, we went around collecting empty glass bottles from around the camp. It wasn't hard, Uncle alone could provide us with a few, but other members of the gang chipped in too. Arthur took me out down the edge of the lake, not far from where we'd been the other night, and arranged the bottles up on a rocky part of the bank. 

I stood a few steps away, loaded up my new gun and looked down the sight at an empty gin bottle. Arthur was sitting nearby watching me, legs dangling off the edge of a short drop down to where I was standing by the water's edge. I missed the first couple of shots, just as I expected, as I got used to the new weapon. Arthur cheered when I shattered the first bottle, and I took out a second one to make sure it wasn't a fluke. Satisfied, I lowered my arm and glanced at Arthur.

"Feels similar to my old one, it's good to have a sidearm again," I told him. Arthur nodded and looked down at the gun in my hand. 

"I'm glad you got that, too. You got something small and good for protecting yourself," he said. "So you got a rifle, a bow, a sidearm. You're all stocked up, you ain't gonna run off now, are you?"

"You ain't serious," I scoffed, rolling my eyes then swinging my arm back up towards the bottles. I took aim, then blew out the remaining bottles one by one until there was nothing but shards of glass remaining. I holstered the gun after that, and turned back to Arthur to spot his raised brows, lips a pursed, surprised little circle. I snickered and trotted over to him, standing between his legs and resting my elbows on his knees. "I like you too much to run off."

His expression was soft and open as he gazed at me, like he was touched, yet lost in thought. I looked at him expectantly, but held my tongue. 

"Christ, you're lovely," he told me under his breath, words soft yet still with the ability to jolt me and set my pulse soaring. "I really don't deserve you."

"Arthur," I sighed, tilting my head. "Why'd you say stuff like that?"

"'Cause I believe it to be the truth."

"Well, it ain't. I'll start thinking you're fishing for flattery, you keep on like that," I scolded, frowning at him. He chuckled a little. 

"I ain't fishing for nothin'. I'm sorry, I'll try not to be a misery guts and just appreciate having you like this," he acquiesced, taking my face in both hands. His brow was a little creased and when he smiled, his eyes didn't get the memo.

"Are you alright?" I asked and he took a breath that moved his whole body, his eyes dropping down to my chest distractedly. He let go of my face, letting his hands rest on my shoulders instead.

"I had to do some work today that I've never liked doing," he admitted. 

"The bank?"

"No, not that. Though I don't exactly feel like bragging about that one, either. It's why I never told you, I don't like rubbing your face in my work, it just makes me feel worse about… feeling like I ain't right for you."

"Don't say stuff like that, it worries me," I confessed, mouth turning down. I slid my hands up his thighs before wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning into his torso. He stroked his hands over the back of my head soothingly.

"Why's it worry you?"

"Makes it sound like you're gonna end things with me," I said honestly and Arthur went stiff for a moment before he carried on his movements.

"I ain't gonna do that, princess. I don't have that sort of self control," he assured me, then he must've tilted his head down because his voice sounded closer. "And just like you, I like you too much for that." He pecked the top of my head and my chest sang.

"That's good. I'm glad we're both as hopeless as each other," I mumbled into his shirt and he laughed, shaking me. "Tell me about this work, then."

"Collecting debts for Strauss. It's what had me all wound up when I came into camp that first day you were there, throwing my weight around, yellin' down the place. Remember that?"

"Of course," I told him, thinking about how I remembered every moment I'd spent with him since joining the gang. I doubted I'd forget anything.

"I went to get the rest of the money from Mrs. Downes, today. A widow. I never even got to confront the man himself for the money, he passed before I could. Strauss likes lending money to sick folk, it seems," he started, sighing loudly. "She and her son pulled no punches, let me know just what a sick man I was for doing what I do. They don't need to tell me, it's awful work. These people are desperate, they're having the worst time of their lives and we take advantage of that."

I didn't know what to say, I just kept my face buried in his chest and let him vent.

"I never have liked it. Seems to go against everything Dutch and the rest of us stand for. We ain't angels, but we take from folk who have too much. From folk who won't miss it. And we try and help those who need it, who've lost everything, people like Mrs. Adler."

"And me," I added.

"And you," he repeated, stroking his hand down the length of my hair again. "Mrs. Downes, she's lost everything, now. Her husband, her home. And I'm the face she puts it all to. It… it makes me sick to my stomach."

I straightened up, keeping my arms around him but looking up to see his face. He was looking off towards the camp. I was reminded of the fact that it was broad daylight, and begrudgingly removed myself from him and went to lift myself up onto the ledge beside him. Arthur helped me up when I struggled, offering his hands. When I was finally settled, I looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry this sort of work is put on you. I know you ain't doing it out of choice."

"Sometimes, I gotta beat the money out'a folk. That's why he sends me, knows they'll be scared of me. I don't pretend to not see why, I ain't no saint, I like a good fist fight as much as the next lowlife criminal. But I don't enjoy handing out beatings to innocent people," Arthur averted his gaze, scratching a patch of dried mud on his jeans. 

I thumbed a piece of hair away from his face, noting how long it was getting. I racked my brains for some sort of solution, but I wasn't blind to the position he was in. I'd noticed Arthur's role in the group very quickly, he was the go-to-guy, it seemed; the one everyone leaned on from time to time. Dutch sent him out far more than anyone else, others pulled him into other jobs here and there, it seemed like Arthur was never short of things to do. Or things expected of him, more accurately. He was dependable, loyal, skilled in practically everything an outlaw could hope to be skilled in, so it was obvious to see how he'd carved this position for himself. I'd never heard him deny anyone anything, either, he just got on with things. Mostly without complaint, too.

Arthur took my silence the wrong way. "I shouldn't be telling you all this, you don't need to hear about all my sins."

"What good am I if I can't lend an ear? We– we're partners, of sorts, ain't we?"

"Of sorts," he glanced up at me, the barest hint of a smile on his lips. 

"I'm trying to think of something to say to you to make it all better. I can't just say, _don't do it_ , because that's not how this works. I know."

"Your understanding means more to me than you can imagine," he told me through a tense breath, putting a hand on my knee. 

"I don't think less of you for the things you do for this gang, please know that," I whispered to him, covering his hand with my own. 

"You probably should, but I won't look a gift horse in the mouth," he chuckled. 

A crunching of gravelly, sandy terrain alerted us that we were not alone. We looked up to see John approaching us, jerking a thumb over his shoulder towards camp.

"Lover boy, Dutch sent me out to get you. He wants to talk to you, apparently Pearson reckons we can end this feud with Colm O'Driscoll once and for all."


	26. Blessed Are The Peacemakers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, y’all know what’s going to happen in this chapter. Poor Arthur :(

The moment Dutch and Micah rode back into camp after their meeting with Colm O'Driscoll, I knew something was wrong. Dutch looked livid, far angrier than I had ever seen him before. He swung down from his Arabian and marched straight towards his tent, snapping at Hosea to join him and pushing carelessly past a concerned Molly. I looked towards the treeline for a third rider, but it was just the two of them. Other members of the camp looked on with frowns on their faces, nobody seemed to have the guts to ask what had happened, though. Micah was dawdling around the horses, giving his own a stick of celery and removing its saddle, hanging it over one of the hitching posts. 

I found myself approaching him, something he seemed very pleased about. 

"Micah," I greeted him, nodding politely. A smile broke across his face and he swanned over to me after giving his horse a parting pat on the neck. 

"Hey there, sugarplum," he drawled in his usual mocking fashion. 

"What happened? Where's Arthur?" I cut to the chase, and he soured at the mention of his name.

"Arthur," he muttered with distaste, "couldn't seem to do his job."

"What do you mean?" I questioned, something cold piercing into my belly. 

"Our truce didn't go so well, meaning it did not happen. Morgan was supposed to meet us after keeping watch over us, but he either got lost on the way to his look-out point or he's ran off with the bastards, I don't really know," he shrugged theatrically and walked away from me. I gave chase, mouth chewing up words messily before I managed to get anything resembling English to form on my tongue.

"You don't know where he is?" I asked loudly, horrified, gaining a few looks from others in the vicinity. 

" _Relax_ , woman," he sighed heavily, spinning around to face me. "He might be a dumbass but he's capable enough of defending himself if push comes to shove."

"You're going to look for him, right? You and Dutch?" I urged, following him all the way over to Dutch's tent. 

"No, we're absolutely not going to go _looking_ for him, because it wouldn't surprise me if that's exactly what Colm wants us to do," Dutch answered, hearing our conversation as we approached. I stared at him, mouth agape. "Don't look at me like that, you have no _idea_ about Colm O'Driscoll."

"So– so you're just gonna leave him?" I hissed, unable to comprehend what was happening, sick with worry, my heart throbbing almost painfully inside my rib cage. Everything outside of my direct point of vision was a total murky blur. I shook a hand from my arm, unable to tell if it was Micah or Hosea when I was staring straight at Dutch.

"If I could just get _five minutes,_ " Dutch raised his voice, bringing his hands up to his temples, "to think about what I'm gonna do!"

I retreated a little, eyes dropping to the floor, mind spinning with possibilities, options, potential actions, images of Arthur in all kinds of situations. 

"I will come with you, I can shoot, I promise you I can, I can help. If you would just–” 

"Somebody get her out of here, I can barely hear myself think!" Dutch yelled, then I was being gently pulled away by a pair of cool hands on my upper arms. I let it happen as I heard Dutch spout off some more. "Don't even know why _she's_ getting all het up, been here barely ten minutes!" 

"Don't mind her, Dutch, she's got a silly little crush," I heard Micah tell him snidely.

"Oh, that is the last thing we need–” Dutch replied, but Hosea took me away from them before I caught any more of their conversation. 

He sat me down on a log facing out over the lake, and crouched down in front of me. Even I heard the way his joints cracked as he did, but he didn't seem fazed. He took one of my hands in his, and I finally found it in me to look him in the eye. He had gentle eyes, those that belonged to literally anyone other than who I'd think of as an outlaw.

"Take a breath now, dear," he told me, and I was thankful for the reminder, having been sitting so stiff and tense I hadn't really been breathing. 

The breath I did take was shaky and betrayed my nerves. 

"It's all going to be alright, we'll fix this," Hosea said.

"Mr. Matthews, what's happening? The others are coming to all sorts of conclusions about Arthur," I heard Miss Grimshaw from over my shoulder and I squeezed my eyes shut. 

"We… we don't know. Try not to worry, Susan, and keep everyone calm. We think Colm's boys got him, but we've no reason to fear the worst just yet. Dutch is thinking things through," Hosea explained in a surprisingly placid tone of voice. There was a pause and Hosea nodded minutely at Susan, and I had the sense that she'd mouthed something behind my back, then I felt a careful hand on my shoulder lingering for only a moment before she walked away.

"He's gonna do something, right? Cause if he ain't, I'll go out there myself–" I started, and Hosea held his hand up to halt me.

"He'll figure something, he always does. I tried to warn him that this wasn't a good idea, but I guess the chance to make one of our problems go away was just too shiny to pass up."

"If Arthur…" I trailed off, my throat suddenly feeling tight, eyes going cloudy. I scrubbed at them and took a breath. 

"He's a tough one, I'm sure you know that. He can hold his own," Hosea assured me, squeezing my hand. "I know that you and Arthur have grown close."

A sound burst from me, something like a laugh, and I nodded my head. Hosea nodded too, brow creasing with pity. 

"Try not to lose your head, now. You think Arthur'd want you to worry like this? Gettin' all worked up?" He asked and I shook my head, willing the tears in my eyes to evaporate before they could get the better of me.

"No, you're right, I'm just worried. Arthur; he's… he's the only person I've ever felt–" I stopped mid sentence, biting down on my bottom lip. Hosea nodded again and patted the back of my hand, looking down at it.

"Arthur's been in a disturbingly good mood, last couple of weeks. I think you're doing him some good, my dear. You're a good kid, you've settled right in here and you pull your weight better than some of these who've been here for years," he gave a quiet laugh before continuing. "I'm real glad to have you, and I hope you don't take some of the things Dutch says to heart. I know he hasn't always been in the best of moods when you've spoken to him before."

"I don't. I'm sure Dutch has a lot of things on his plate, being the leader and all, my sensibilities shouldn't be one of 'em," I shrugged my shoulders weakly and Hosea released a soft breath. 

"Like I said, you're a good kid," he told me then pushed himself upright. "Would you like me to send someone over?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you."

"Alright then, sweetheart. I'll go and find out what Dutch is up to. We'll get our boy back, some way or another," he patted my shoulder before leaving me alone. 

I took a few moments for myself, leaning my elbows on my knees and staring down at the ground. My talk with Hosea had calmed me down some, but I wouldn't be able to swallow my worry without seeing Arthur first. I knew that sitting around feeling sorry for myself was doing nobody any favours, so I soon rose to my feet and walked over to Pearson's station.

The man himself had abandoned dinner, and so I picked up where he left off in its preparation. A scan of the camp found him sitting by the fire, head in his hands; I remembered that it was him who'd brought this meeting with the O'Driscolls to Dutch's attention. He must've felt terrible. Tilly was sat next to him, speaking quietly to him. Everyone else was, I realised with horror, staring right at me. I met their gazes, eyes flickering from Bill, to Karen, to Reverend Swanson before everyone suddenly found the fire very interesting and focused their attention on that instead of me. 

I'd seen it written all over their faces, though, anyone who didn't know about Arthur and I certainly had some sort of suspicion now. They eyed me with curiosity, surprise, disbelief, after no doubt seeing my mini-breakdown with Dutch and Hosea respectively. Whatever they thought, though, I couldn't much care about. I threw myself into finishing the food for everyone, never mind the fact I couldn't stomach anything myself.

-

Time passed on and I had been torn between confronting Dutch about why the hell he hadn't gone out there yet, and going out myself. Night fell, however, and Dutch encouraged us all to get some sleep, promising a solution by the morning. Of course, I slept like shit, every passing moment filling my head with worse and worse images of what could be happening to my sweetheart. I didn't want to think what I was thinking, there was an aspect of dread that had me worrying that I would be willing it into reality, and we'd never see Arthur alive again. It was this thought pattern going around in circles in my brain; trying not to think about it and focusing so much on not thinking about it until _it was all I could think about!_

I ended up sitting on Arthur's bed, staring off into space. I hoped that I wouldn't be noticed when Sean ambled past towards the edge of camp, ready to replace whoever was currently keeping guard. I got my wish, Sean didn't even look my way, but Charles – whom he was taking over from – did. He stopped in his tracks on his way to bed, looking right at me, and I felt warmth creep up my neck to my cheeks at being caught in Arthur's space, where I really had no business being. 

Charles slowly approached me, hesitant in his steps. 

"Evening," he greeted in that low, level tone of his. 

"Hi, Charles," I responded quietly. 

There was a lengthy pause.

"You okay?" He asked. 

I didn't want to answer. Him showing care and concern, even in the detached, placid way Charles had with words, had set a lump in my throat. I simply nodded my head in place of a verbal answer, however Charles did not continue walking. At least not in the direction of his own bed; instead he joined me on Arthur's. 

"If you'd like to talk, I'm a good listener. I'm not much of a conversationalist, and I can't promise I'll be any good at responding, but I'll definitely listen," he offered.

"Thank you, but I fear if I talk, I'll cry," I admitted. He nodded his head slowly.

"I understand. Though, I know we break a lot of laws, but crying isn't a crime."

"I guess I'm kinda mad at…" I began, trailing off just as fast. I snuck a look at Charles, deciding whether or not it was a good idea to be honest. I didn't think he'd go off spouting everything I said to everyone else, but still. 

"Dutch?" He asked after my pause, reading my thoughts perfectly. 

I gauged his expression before nodding. 

"Yeah, I understand," he sighed.

"Are you?"

"Not particularly," he murmured, "it's a tough situation and I can see things from his side. The O'Driscolls will be expecting us to retaliate, could end real bad for us if we play into their expectations. We don't know exactly what Colm's planning, but I bet Arthur wouldn't want us jeopardising the gang for his sake."

"Well, I guess that's a point," I shrugged my shoulders glumly.

"But, that doesn't mean I don't feel like crap just sitting here, doing nothing," he added, meeting my eyes sympathetically. "Arthur, he's… I have a lot of respect for him. He does a lot for us."

I held his gaze for a while. "Yeah, he does. I guess that's why it's so hard for me to stand by while Dutch tells everyone he'll get to it in the morning. If it was anyone else in Arthur's position, Arthur himself would be straight out there, probably."

"You're probably right," he agreed. 

"I keep thinking about going… but I have no idea where he'd be. And even if I did find him, I'd get myself killed, no doubt."

"You're probably right about that, too. Don't do anything reckless," he gave a hollow laugh and I sighed. 

"I just feel awful," I shook my head, then leaned my head in my hands. I felt Charles' hand pat my upper back.

"Arthur isn't invincible, I'm not going to sit here and promise you he's going to be alright–"

"Thanks," I laughed drily.

"–and chances are it wouldn't bring you any comfort, anyway," he continued logically, "but what I will say is; he's strong. He can handle himself. If anyone can take on the O'Driscolls, it's Arthur."

"In that case, let's hope he strolls in here any second now, carrying Colm's severed head or something," I mumbled monotonously, and I heard him laugh through his nose. 

"Let's hope," he agreed, "anyway, sleep."

"I can't."

Charles stood up and gave me a small smile. "Laying down and closing your eyes might help."

"I… I really like him, Charles," I said, the corners of my mouth turning down, trembling. Charles' expression was unchanging besides a slight softening in his eyes.

"I know."

"I'm worried." 

Charles let out a breath, shifting slightly and averting his eyes. "Me too," he admitted, "but there's not a lot we can do, not until Dutch says something."

I nodded, reluctantly accepting the situation for what it was; pretty hopeless.

"I won't keep you, get some sleep," I told him. 

"You too," he said, nodding at me before heading to bed with a small, parting smile.

I didn't get to sleep until the very first hints of daylight were painting the sky a lighter shade of blue, and of course, it wasn't long after that everyone was getting up and making noise. I must've scrounged an hour or two of sleep, and upon waking up I threw myself into chores. I tried not to think too hard about Dutch, but I heard passing conversation whenever I was near his tent. 

"What if we send some men out looking, so we at least know where the O'Driscolls are hiding? We might be able to get a better sense of the situation, have a fighting chance of figuring something out," I heard Hosea pleading. 

"Who're you gonna send out? I ain't risking my neck, it'd be no surprise to me if they had the entire state's lawmen sittin' there waiting for us, the greasy bastard said they'd offered him a price for Dutch," Micah responded, and I frowned to myself. 

"I was asking Dutch," came Hosea's placid retort. 

"No, Micah is right. We can't just barge in there, we can't play into his hands so easily," Dutch said. 

"It wouldn't be barging in there, it'd be assessing the situation. What else do you suppose? We just leave him there? Dutch…" Hosea sounded irritated and even pained, and I had to walk away. It felt as if there was only one man in that tent that truly cared about Arthur.

Before I knew it, the day was passing. Arthur had been missing for over twenty four hours, and I was suddenly feeling quite numb. I recognised the feeling enough that I had to put effort into not consciously admitting it, but in the back of my mind I had assumed the worst. I was preparing myself for never seeing him again, thinking that even if we did send someone out to find him, they'd be doing so purely to put him to rest. I was no stranger to death, to loss, and the cold calmness I felt in my stomach was all too familiar. I remembered it well from the night before my mother died, and my father soon after. I was detaching myself from the situation, hoping to soften the blow.

But then, when darkness fell once again, a solo set of hoof beats sounded on the edge of camp. My stomach dropped when my head swivelled and my eyes found Jet, and at first I couldn't see anyone on the back of him. I shot to my feet as the barest light from the stars and the camp caught something sliding from the saddle onto the ground with a thud and a groan. 

I was hit with intense nausea and took off towards Arthur, yelling at the top of my lungs for everyone's attention. Women around me gasped and called out to Arthur, hot on my heels as we approached. I stalled when I was a few steps away from him, spotting blood; a lot of it, and I felt light headed. I wasn't squeamish, blood didn't bother me, it was the fact that it was _Arthur's_ that had my head spinning.

_But he was alive!_

I quickly pulled myself together and closed the gap between us, coming around to crouch by his side, scanning his body to work out where the blood was coming from. He didn't seem with it, struggling to stay conscious, eyes glazing as he blearily looked up at me. He croaked my name weakly. 

"It's okay Arthur, you're safe, you're back at camp," I told him and my voice sounded eerily void of emotion. 

I discovered the source of the bleeding, he had a gory wound on his shoulder, torn through his union suit – which was all he was wearing – looked to have been caused by a bullet. Close range. Dutch showed up by my side, freezing just as I had before bending down and wrapping an arm around him, trying to ease him up. 

"I told you, Dutch. It was a set up," Arthur slurred, sagging against Dutch's arm. 

"My boy…" Dutch began, at a loss for words, face stricken with worry. The look turned my stomach, souring me. "You- you're okay, son. Swanson!"

The reverend came running up, squeezing in before me. I backed up to give them room along with everyone else, watching helplessly as the men hoisted Arthur up and began near enough carrying him over to his tent.

"I got away… Colm was gonna get the law on you. All of us," Arthur told him, head hanging between his shoulders before he was set down on his bed, laid down gingerly, careful of his shoulder. 

"I bet he was," Dutch said through a clenched jaw. "Don't you worry, son. You're safe now. You're home."

Miss Grimshaw appeared at my side, putting a comforting hand on the small of my back. I felt useless, just standing there and watching but I had no clue what else I could do. I willed someone to bark an order at me so that I could be of _some_ use but nobody did. Arthur was drenched in sweat, his union suit soiled with dirt and blood, hair dishevelled and clinging to his face and neck. It was a complete shock to my system to see him look so vulnerable and wounded. A cold sweat rolled down the center of my spine as I began to fear the worst, yet again.

"Miss Grimshaw, will you sit with him a while?" Dutch asked, never glancing my way. 

"Of course," she said, letting go of me and pulling up a seat by Arthur's bed, whispering words of comfort to him. Dutch walked past me wordlessly and I just continued to stare at Arthur, completely and utterly frozen and useless. 

I heard my name form on Arthur's dried, swollen lips, and I was moving forward without telling my legs to do so. I dropped to my knees next to him, next to Susan, and with a shivering hand I gently patted his, not wanting to touch him too much in case I jostled an injury. 

"I'm here, Arthur, I am so sorry, I wish I could do something for you. What can I do?" The words almost sounded like a plea. Arthur's face was covered in cuts and bruises, and with my free hand I gently brushed away a piece of his hair before it stuck to a cut on his cheekbone and dried there. 

"Some– some water," he requested and Susan rose up, planting a hand on my shoulder. 

"I'll fetch some. You stay with him, honey," she offered, and I gave her a grateful nod and took the seat she patted as she left.

"Oh, lord, Arthur, what have they done to you?" I trembled, feeling a sob building in my throat and swallowing it back. 

"'s fine, jus' a scratch," he murmured and I shook my head at his attitude. 

"You ain't still bleeding," I noted, "can I look?" 

"I sorted it, stopped the bleeding. You can look."

"What did you do to it? I'm gonna move your union suit, this thing dries up it'll be hell to pull away," I warned him, unbuttoning the top buttons of the suit before carefully peeling the fabric away from his wound. Getting a better look at what he was dealing with, he needn't have answered my question since it was evident from what I saw. My mouth went dry. 

"Cauterised it myself, an' dug the bullet out," he confirmed. 

"Oh god, Arthur…"

"Was that or bleed out."

"You're one brave man," I told him, stroking his hair slowly. 

Miss Grimshaw returned then, a cup of water in one hand, a bucket of the stuff in the other, a bottle tucked under her arm. She handed me the cup of water and I reached for the back of Arthur's head, helping him lift up just enough for me to give him a drink. He sipped down enough to quench his thirst, then Susan was quick to replace the cup in my hand with a bottle of whiskey. I stared at it for a moment. 

"Mr. Morgan, I'm afraid we're gonna have to clean and stitch up that wound," she said grimly. Arthur made a small sound, a cross between a grunt and a sob.

"I know," he muttered through gritted teeth, an unhappy sense of understanding in his tone. Hosea approached carrying a small tin.

"Give him a generous glug of that whiskey, dear, he'll need it," he said, and I immediately unscrewed the cap and offered it to him. Arthur drank eagerly, wincing at the burn.

Dutch helped me to rearrange a few things around Arthur's wagon before they got on with it, allowing time for the whiskey to work on his system. We moved the crates by his bed back, giving us a little more room surrounding it, and Dutch retrieved some extra canvas to hang up around to create a closed off space to give the man some privacy. He didn't say a word to me outside of the occasional instruction, and when we were done he slipped inside the tent to join Hosea, letting the flap of canvas fall closed in front of me. I stood there for a moment, staring at the stained, old canvas blankly. 

I heard them talking inside, Hosea asking where I was. 

"She's outside," came Dutch's blunt response, followed by Arthur's woozy repetition of my name. "This ain't nothing for a lady to watch, Arthur, you're in quite a state," Dutch added. 

"Do you want her here, Arthur?" Hosea asked, regardless. There was a long pause. 

"No… best not," Arthur finally murmured. 

"Alright then, are you ready, my boy?"

"No, but just get it done," Arthur grunted back. I stepped away, backwards, keeping my eyes on the glowing canvas, light wavering from the lantern inside, shadows cast by Hosea and Dutch as they moved into position around him. 

After a few moments of quiet, I heard Arthur hiss with agony, grunting and letting loose tight, wavering breaths. I did the cowardly thing and sped away across the camp, getting far enough away so that I could only just hear him as they worked on him. I sat myself down on my bed roll, leaning up against the wagon behind it, bringing my knees up to my chest and folding my arms over my legs, nestling my head there in a bid to block out the noise. He wasn't hollering all that much, but the canvas didn't do much to stop the sounds he was making from meeting my ears. I felt terrible for blocking it out, but every moan made my stomach squeeze, mouth filling with spit like I was going to puke. There was nothing I could do for him, and he'd said himself he didn't want me around to see him like this. 

"Hey sweetie, how're you doin'?" Abigail's concerned voice pulled me from my cocoon and I lifted my head to look at her. 

"I'm fine, ain't me with a bullet hole in me," I told her.

"Yeah, but…" she trailed off, then sat down beside me. "Uh, just so you know, people are talkin'."

"Let them talk," I shrugged, shaking my head. 

"Thought you might say that, I know you've got more pressing matters on your mind. I just thought you deserved to know," she admitted, and touched my arm briefly. "I never confirmed it, told 'em all to mind their business."

"Thanks. It's my fault, I've hardly been subtle," I sighed, looking towards the fire where the gang members were all sat, "they either think I'm obsessed with him like some creep, or they clocked the truth."

"It's probably the latter, Miss Grimshaw shooed all the other girls off, 'sides you."

I didn't respond, looking down at the ground and chewing on the inside of my cheek.

"He's gonna be okay, you know," Abigail tried to reassure me. 

"I sincerely hope so," I breathed. 

"Keep your chin up, Arthur's tough."

"I just can't believe he had to drag himself back here like that… dig the bullet out and cauterise it on his own, escape from those people," I muttered, shaking my head. "I get that the situation was difficult, but it seemed like Dutch wasn't prepared to do _anything._ "

"You don't think he'd've just left him, do you?" She asked, and I wasn't sure if she was being incredulous, or asking seriously. I shrugged my shoulders. 

"I have no idea. I kept thinking of recruiting some help and going out looking myself, maybe if I had– if I'd've gone yesterday, he might not–"

"Stop it, I know where you're going with this. Ain't nothing you could've done, and you know it," Abigail scolded. "I know you've got feelings for him and you're worried, but don't start saying what if. These things happen."

"I know," I said glumly. 

"He's going to be fine, just watch," she reiterated and I nodded in acceptance. She was probably right. Arthur was home, he was safe, we'd all take care of him until he was fully recovered. 

I looked over at Arthur's tent when movement caught my eye to see Hosea and Dutch emerge; they stood there for a moment, passing a few words before parting ways. Dutch went back to his own tent, closing the flaps up behind him and shutting himself off with Molly. Hosea washed his hands in a bucket of water outside Arthur's tent before glancing around, eyes finally settling on me from across the camp; he beckoned me over. 

"Excuse me," I said quietly, rising to my feet, "and thanks, Abigail, for the reassurance."

She nodded at me, and I quickly made my way across camp, meeting with Hosea. He was wiping his hands on his pants and offered me a warm smile when I reached him. 

"You can go in there, now, I stitched him up and dressed his wounds. He should be okay as long as he gets a lot of rest and he steers clear of any infection. Just have to keep him still for a few days, let the body heal."

"Thank you, Hosea."

"Don't thank me, I've spent the last ten minutes making the poor man weep like a baby," he chuckled weakly. 

"It had to be done," I reassured him, patting his shoulder. "I'm sure he'll thank you for it in the end."

"I'm sure," he breathed, shaking his head wistfully before gesturing to the tent. "Go on in, he's… he's drunk, but he's been asking for you."

I took a breath before entering the tent, closing it up behind me again and taking in the sight of him. His union suit was unbuttoned, the top half pulled down and off of his arms, making way for the bandage wrapped under his arm and over his shoulder. His face glistened with sweat, his hair still clinging to him, and he looked tired. So run down and beaten up, my heart gave a sad squeeze and I sat down on the chair next to his bed. He finally looked at me then, as if he'd only just noticed my presence. 

"Princess," he hummed, flipping his wrist over where it lay on the bed, clapping his fingers against his palm twice as a prompt for me to hold it. I gave his hand a careful squeeze, then leaned down to press a kiss to the ends of his fingers where they curled over the back of my hand.

"How're you feeling?" 

"Like shit," he said bluntly, huffing a laugh. "Little better now I got a pretty face watching over me."

"You saying Hosea ain't pretty?" I joked, and Arthur laughed half-heartedly, exhaustion creeping into it.

"Whiskey helped with the pain just a touch but now the damn world's spinning," he slurred, "even more than it was before."

"You ain't gonna puke, are you?"

"I hope not," he complained, forehead pinching. Concern crept into my expression and I felt it in the way my mouth turned down. 

"Tell me if you are, alright? I'll try and… get you on your side," I said, looking down at his dressed wound. 

"Oh, I'm fine. Ain't you got a sweet bedside manner? You sound all caring," he snickered with far less energy than he probably intended and I smiled bitter-sweetly.

"Of course I care, you fool. You had me worried sick. Literally; thought I was the one about to lose my lunch earlier on, seein' you all beat up."

"They make me look that ugly?"

"Stop it, ain't what I meant."

"I know, angel face. If I can't have a sense of humour on my deathbed…" he tapered off and I scoffed. 

"You ain't on your deathbed," I frowned and he blinked up at me, a lopsided smile on his face. 

"You're so easy," he commented and I rolled my eyes at him. I had to admit, his attempts at humour brought me some comfort; every moment I spent with him, I could feel myself beginning to relax.

"And you're so sweaty, you want me to mop your forehead, freshen you up?" 

"Sure, strip me down and gimme a sponge bath if you want, like one'a those bath girls," he chuckled. I cocked a brow as I picked up the bucket of clean water Susan had left, soaking the washcloth in it and wringing out the excess. 

"What bath girls? I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, you might have to elaborate," I said coyly. 

"Ahh, you know."

"I don't, never heard of such a thing."

I patted at his forehead with the cloth, wiping at the damp locks of hair there. I caught his eye and smirked, but he just stared at me, engrossed in something in my eyes. 

"God, you're a pretty girl. You know that?" He told me. 

"You're just gettin' out of telling me about these bath girls you been seeing," I mumbled, flushing. 

"I ain't seeing 'em. I only got eyes for you, princess."

I couldn't think of anything to say to that, so I changed the trajectory of our conversation. "You know, you really had me worried."

"You ain't gotta worry 'bout me."

"That's what people were telling me. I might've made a scene, think the cat's out'a the bag about us."

"Ahh, who cares?" He grunted, shrugging and then hissing. I gasped and caressed his arm, grimacing.

"Well, if you don't, I don't," I replied. 

"Can I get a kiss?" He requested and I felt good inside, hearing him say it. 

"Of course," I whispered, sitting up and leaning over him, connecting our lips in a kiss that was far lighter and gentler than usual. I didn't want to cause him any unnecessary pain, and his lip was a little swollen and busted. He hummed quietly, smiling up at me when I pulled back.

"Your kisses are the sweetest I've had," he murmured. 

"The very sweetest?"

"Mhm," he nodded, his eyes falling closed. I planted another kiss on his cheek before I carried on mopping his face, taking some fresh, cool water and lightly passing it over his cheeks, his nose, the cuts and bruises to take away any dried blood. All the while I was ever so gentle, passing the cloth over him as soft as the beat of a butterfly wing until his face was clean.

"Get some sleep," I whispered, leaning over him and stroking my hand through his hair over and over.

"Don't– don't go away jus' yet," he pleaded tiredly.

"I won't, I'll be right here till someone kicks me out," I assured him, keeping my gaze focused on his relaxed face, fingers still combing through his hair, lulling him to sleep.


	27. Jemima Jones IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another con! This one with Micah. This chapter contains criminal activity and mature topics of conversation.

When I woke up, it was to Hosea's voice and gentle shaking of my shoulder. I'd fallen asleep in the chair by Arthur's bed, head cradled by my folded arms up against the nearest storage crate. I blearily lifted my head and blinked at my surroundings, momentarily confused. I remembered quickly, though, eyes immediately finding Arthur who was laying awake already, the morning sun pouring through the canvas of his tent. 

"There she is, thought I was gonna have to toss a bucket of water. Out like a light, though I don't know how, that can't be comfortable," Hosea greeted me, gesturing to the twisted, hunched position I'd woken up in. I stretched and grunted, putting my spine back in the right order, it felt like.

"Sorry, I'm in the way," I noted, realising the man was here to check on Arthur. 

I stood up and ambled past him, letting him sit down in my place.

"Surprised it ain't Grimshaw bustin' in here, putting you to work. It's late," Arthur said as Hosea gingerly pulled back his wound's dressing. 

"It is?" I murmured guiltily. "I should start on my chores."

"She knows you're not slacking, I think a late start is perfectly acceptable given the circumstances," Hosea assured me, pressing the back of his hand to Arthur's forehead.

"You have my permission to milk this," Arthur said, and I snorted.

"I don't mind chores," I shrugged, watching as Hosea tilted Arthur's head up and felt around under his jaw, checking for swollen glands. 

"Well, there's no sign of infection so far. How're you feeling?" He asked.

"'Bout as well as you'd expect."

"You're in pain, I imagine, but other than that?" Hosea clarified, gaining a one-shouldered shrug from Arthur. "Okay. Well, let us know if you start feeling unwell."

"Will do." 

"We'll get you some food, you gotta eat to get your strength up," Hosea patted his forearm then stood up.

"I ain't hungry," Arthur grimaced. "Especially not for whatever Pearson's rustling up."

"I don't care. We'll make you some oatmeal."

"I'll slice up some apple to go in, to sweeten it up and make it taste of something," I added.

"I don't need no fuss, just leave me here to fester and I'm sure I'll surface in a couple weeks," Arthur grumbled. I sighed and walked over to him, leaning over his bed. 

"Let us take care of you, Arthur. Everyone cares about you making a recovery," I told him softly. He blinked up at me, an unhappy crease in his forehead.

"Who'll still care when I need someone to stop me rolling into a ditch when I'm trying to take a damn piss?" He grumbled. My brows raised and I paused for a moment before shrugging. 

"I'll help you," I said. Arthur snorted.

"Uh, no. You won't. I draw the line there," he hissed. I straightened up and nodded in acceptance. 

"I'll do it. You go and make him that oatmeal," Hosea volunteered, patting my elbow and sending me on my way. "Come on, big guy."

I heard Arthur's groan of frustration as I left, and Hosea began helping him to his feet. I felt awful, seeing him so reliant on others when it was clear to me he was fiercely independent and did not like to trouble those he cared about. I wished he would see that he wasn't putting anyone out. He was injured, and we wanted to help. 

I prepared his oatmeal and brought it to him, he was pleased that he didn't need it feeding to him, because once he was propped up on some pillows he could use his good arm to feed himself. He waved me off to go about my day, though I felt reluctant to leave him alone in his tent. I did notice other members of the gang going in and keeping him company every now and then, though, notably Charles, John and Javier. Dutch too, of course, as well as the girls. They brought him books to read and candy to lift his spirits. Jack had visited with Abigail, and I was standing close enough that I could hear his curious questions and Arthur's sweet patience in answering them. Even the one asking whether he could see through the hole in his shoulder. I was pretty sure I'd seen everyone at least poke their head into the tent to ask how he was feeling. Even Micah.

A week or so passed and he was slowly getting better, more mobile. He was still confined to his bed for the most part, mainly under the orders of Hosea who insisted he take it easy and avoid unnecessary strain. I kept Arthur company most evenings, sometimes falling asleep in his tent, but whenever he caught me dozing before he fell asleep he'd send me to my bedroll. In the daytime, sometimes he'd venture out of the tent to stretch his legs and keep from going completely mad, but he'd lost a fair amount of blood and taken quite a beating and he tired easily, so his walks were short and few.

I hadn't left camp since my trip into town to get those supplies for Arthur, and I felt stir-crazy, not used to being in the same place without a change of scenery. I spared a lot of thoughts for Arthur at that, wondering if he felt the same way. I had been doing general chores around camp to do my bit, but I certainly felt ready for something different halfway through the second week of such routine. So, when Micah approached me one afternoon when I was sat by Arthur doing some sewing, I was inclined to agree with whatever scheme he had cooking up. 

"Reckon I could pull you away from the resident colander for a few hours?" He'd greeted us, gaining a stern look from myself and complete ignorance from Arthur. 

"Depends, it gonna get me out of here?" I replied. 

"Of course. I've been itching for another one of our jobs, we always work so well together, you and I," he touted, voice a praising drawl.

"What did you have in mind?" I asked, seeing Arthur's chest rise in a heavy breath from the corner of my eye. I glanced at him, and he was just staring at the top of the tent from his reclined position in bed. I realised how rude it was to discuss getting out of camp while Arthur had no option to do so, so I quickly rose to my feet, leaving my sewing on the table next to me. 

"Well, actually–"

"We should leave Arthur in peace," I quickly interjected, giving Arthur a nod and a smile before I left. He just watched me go with an expression I couldn't read. 

As we walked away, Micah continued, "I was thinking we could go to the Parlour House, pull a little something like you did with John."

"Yeah? Like what?" I asked. He stopped walking and turned to face me head on, an impish smile on his face. I stared blankly for a moment, then cocked my brow. "Oh, you want me to think of something?"

"You have such a way with these things," he flattered me, putting his hands on my upper arms and giving them an encouraging squeeze. 

I brought my hand up to my mouth, idly running my fingers across my lips in thought. Micah's tongue peeked out, brushing against the bristles of his moustache at the corner of his mouth as he stared at me expectantly. I shrugged his hands off of me, a frown forming on my face. 

"Give me a second, I hate being put on the spot," I grumbled, eyes flittering around the camp for a source of inspiration, as if the perfect plan would jump out at me from the sight of Molly preening in the mirror, or Charles constructing fire arrows, or Swanson tripping over his own feet as he stumbled by, singing a loud, slurred song.

My lips curved into a smile when magically, an idea did emerge at the glint of light bouncing off a beer bottle in Uncle's hand. 

Gathering the materials for the con was easy enough. I found an empty box in one of the wagons and asked around for any pretty gift bags; which Molly could provide. I asked Uncle to drain his beer, wrapped the bottle in a piece of cloth and swung it against the ground so it shattered. Finally, I poured the broken glass into the box, sealed it up, and put it away in the gift bag; all the while, Micah followed me around camp, curious and confused, but quiet. 

"Train station," I said to Micah once the prop was ready and he gave me a quizzical look. "It's better than the Parlour House, plus I don't wanna seem suspicious, in case anyone saw what I did last time."

"Sure, you gonna explain what we're doing?" He cocked a brow. 

"On the way," I smirked, then padded off to dress in something a little prettier; corset, petticoat and all, with a few pieces of borrowed jewellery too. 

-

We arrived by horseback at the train station and I'd brought Micah up to speed. He'd laughed at my plan, not out of malice but because he thought it was brilliant. We were sat in the train station, waiting for the right time to strike. We needed someone who looked like they had money, of course, and with the town being close to Saint Denis, I was sure we'd find someone suitable passing through the station.

I left it to Micah to pick the mark, he sat by me, watching the doors behind us and preparing to give the signal for me to move. It was a simple plan, neat and tidy how I liked them with little room for things to go wrong, relying on acting skills. I was sitting in my finest clothes with the gift bag on my lap and my back to the doors, even Micah had dressed up a little sharper than usual just to add to the believability of our job. I was well rehearsed, having pulled a similar job on my own before I'd joined the gang, excited anticipation twisted in my stomach and made me feel just a little bit sick. 

Micah's knee suddenly bumped against mine; it was show time. Without so much as a pause I suddenly rose to my feet, turning to step out from the end of the bench without a glance back. There was a thump and a crash, of course, the pretty gift bag hitting the ground just a second after a body collided with my own. I stumbled for effect, crying out as I tumbled onto my side, hip hitting the floor, limbs sprawling out and making one heck of a scene. Heads turned, the man who'd bumped into me froze, eyes widening and a number of emotions passing across his face. Shock, confusion, annoyance. 

"Watch where you're damn well going, woman!" He yelled at me, not giving a fig about the fact I was laying on the floor. Ah, well at least I didn't have robbing a kind gentleman on my conscience.

I winced, shifting onto my other side and rubbing at my hip, then froze, eyes settling on my bag.

"No!" I shouted, moving quickly to grab the bag, making sure that everyone could hear the tinkling of broken glass as I moved it. 

"Angel, are you alright?" Micah was quick to jump into action, crouching down next to me and putting his hand on my shoulder. 

"I'm… I'm fine. I'll probably have a bruise but I'll live. That's more than I can say for my gift," I told him sadly, holding the bag up to him. Micah's head swivelled to the man. 

"Don't just stand there, you moron!" He spat, shaming the man into reaching out, taking my elbow in his hand and working with Micah to help me back to my feet. 

"I didn't even get to open it!" I bemoaned, staring down at the bag in my hands. 

"Oh… oh, I'm sorry, angel. These things happen, maybe we can, uh, buy you a new one," Micah said, his tone edged with nervousness. "Just sit yourself down, dear, that was a nasty fall."

Micah guided me into my seat, as everyone stared, gawping. The mark fidgeted in his spot, cheeks reddening as people scowled and tutted at him. 

"You, uh, you alright, ma'am?" He asked awkwardly. I kept my head down, turning away just a bit as if to pretend he wasn't there.

"You just yelled at the poor girl, leave her be, let's you and I just have a little chat," Micah grumbled at him, taking the bag from me and shoving the guy's shoulder to get him moving in the opposite direction.

Despite him being on the other side of the room, I could hear every word from Micah's mouth. He wasn't concerned about being quiet, the more onlookers the better. 

"You any idea how much this thing cost? How long I scrimped and saved to straggle together enough cash to make my lady's birthday a special one?" He began, shaking the rattly bag for effect. 

"Hey, she stood up right in fr–"

"Don't you for one second think about blaming her for this. Be a man! Take responsibility!" He snapped his interruption then gave a heavy sigh. "She's been wanting it for weeks, it's this pretty little vase from this place in Saint Denis…"

"Are you alright, miss?" A gentleman nearby asked, distracting me from my eavesdropping. 

"Oh, yes, I'll be fine. Thank you, sir," I said, disappointment seeping into my tone. "Today had been so special, this is all such a shame!"

"It's your birthday?" He asked, and I nodded. The man glanced over at Micah, then rose to his feet. "I'll go see if I can lend a hand, see if we can talk some sense into that man. I heard the way he yelled at you, that's no way to speak to a lady; 'specially not one just been knocked over."

My lips parted and I watched him walk over to join Micah, giving his two cents and urging the mark to cough up some cash to go towards a new vase. I had not been expecting that. Soon enough, another feller joined in. I almost felt guilty, but this was what we _did_. This was how we made money! The mark looked plenty rich enough, in an expensive looking suit, a gold ring on almost every finger. The attention he'd drawn had him pulling out a billfold and pushing it into Micah's eager hand with an angry hiss of acceptance, before he was storming out of the station muttering about not being able to miss his train. 

Micah pocketed the cash, uttering his thanks to the other men who'd stepped in before he was gliding on over to me, a smile threatening to lift his moustache. He held his hand out to me and I took it, he helped me up, dusting his lips across the back of my knuckles in a way I'd have to have words with him about.

"My lady, I'm sorry about all that. Tomorrow I will go and get a replacement for your gift, for now, perhaps you'd like to get out of here and get a drink with me, take some of the edge off such a stressful situation?" He suggested. I smiled, giving a small curtsy. 

"Perhaps," I nodded. Micah straightened up, guiding me from the station with a hand on the small of my back. 

-

"I cannot believe that man stepped in to help you," I was saying to Micah, sat upstairs out on the balcony of Rhodes Parlour House, over a bottle of beer. 

"What a sucker," he chuckled. 

"Poor man. He had no idea what he was doing," I shook my head, biting my lip.

"I almost lost it right there, you're lucky I never laughed, missy," he teased. 

"How much did you get?" I asked, leaning forwards, elbows on the table. He leaned forwards too, smirking. 

"Sixty. Not too bad for free money, huh?"

"Not bad at all," I agreed, brushing my fingers up and down the side of my beer bottle idly. 

"How's your hip? You hit the floor pretty hard there," he asked, eyes dipping down my body though the table was blocking his view.

"A little sore, actually, never meant to act that part out so well," I admitted with a snort.

"Well, I guess it earned you a few sympathy points. And no one can say you aren't committed to your role, you did good, darlin'," he drawled, sipping his beer and licking his lips as he locked his eyes on mine.

"I think I may have found my calling; I should be joining the theatre," I laughed. 

"No, no, you're staying with us. You're far too valuable an asset," he told me, and I gave an awkward huff at the flattery. "I'm serious, you've brought in a decent sum of cash since you've been rolling with us, I like your attitude."

I shrugged my shoulders, "I just do what I can. I owe my life to the gang, I don't wanna be a freeloader."

"You do more than your fair share. Between you and me, I reckon most'a the women back at camp are holding us back, they don't put in graft like the rest of us," he leaned in conspiratorially and spoke under his breath. "That's why you're a breath of fresh air."

"Oh, now that ain't fair, the girls do plenty, it just goes unnoticed," I defended, frowning at him. 

"Maybe they do, but you ask me I don't reckon it balances out too well," he shrugged, "we could probably get on just fine without the women."

"You ain't forgotten you're speaking to one of _the women_ , have you?" I cocked a brow and Micah acknowledged me with a gaze that was unnerving in its shameless assessment of me. 

"Oh it's mighty hard to forget that I'm in the company of a woman," his tone was bold, a little vulgar, even, and he was smirking at me. "But I don't class you as one of _the women_ ," he made air quotations with his fingers as if to categorise them as an entity all of their own.

"Oh? Then what am I?" I queried, genuinely curious about his response. 

"You, you're somethin' special. I can see you really going places in this gang, you keep doing what you do. Especially if you stick by my side."

I didn't say anything for a while, not entirely sure _what_ to say. Micah kept on staring at me, a smile plastered across his lips, beer on his breath as he leaned across the table, taking up some of my personal space where I was leaning on the table too. 

"Anyone ever told you, you got a real pretty face?" He suddenly said, taking me by surprise. "Especially those eyes. Real nice eyes."

My brows raised and I leaned back a little, my back meeting the chair. "Oh, well that's kind of you to say," I murmured. 

"You ever think about that kiss we shared?" He asked, though he received silence as an answer. "You tasted nice, was good while it lasted, weren't it? Even though you made out like it bothered you."

"Well, it did bother me. But that's in the past, ain't it? Not worth talking about, let's forget about it."

"You think? I thought people were supposed to always remember their first kiss."

"If it's all the same to you, Micah, I'd rather not count that one," I told him curtly, and a smile settled across his features that was amused and more than a little predatory. 

I thought for a moment he was finished, with the resulting silence, but it did not last long. He took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, resting his beer bottle on his belly.

"You know, I think it's sweet you're a woman of little experience, you don't see that all too much, not with the company we keep. Ladies like Miss Abigail; I ain't got a problem with a woman who sells herself but, well, you know. There's something mighty appealing about a pretty thing who ain't ever been sullied by the hands of another man," Micah licked his lips, his expression decidedly lascivious.

"Micah, this ain't a proper topic of conversation," I huffed, getting warm in the face and shifting uncomfortably.

"I suspect you're curious. 'Bout what a man can do," he continued, ignoring my discomfort, "be honest."

"This ain't proper," I reiterated, speaking under my breath, "where on Earth has this come from?" I balked. He let out a dirty laugh. 

"You're a sweet little thing, ain't you?" He said, then sat up, draining his beer. "You and I, we have fun together, don't we?"

"Fun?" I repeated. "I guess so, sometimes."

"Yeah, we do. I reckon we could have all sorts of fun, I could show you what you've been missing out on all these years, if you'd let me," he offered, gesturing to me with the neck of his bottle, "how about it? You can trust me, you'll have a nice time. Just a little fun between you and I."

I narrowed my eyes at him, rendered speechless. 

"Would you like that? We could pay for a room here, head back later and nobody has to know about it but us, it'd be like uhh… like a private celebration of our own," he carried on, and I couldn't comprehend how blind he was to my obvious displeasure. 

"Just so I'm clear; are you asking if I wanna have sex with you; here? Now?" I asked bluntly, seeing him flinch just a little at the way I asked, no frills or nothing. 

"I'm asking if you'd like to have a little harmless fun with a trusted friend, it don't gotta be put as brash as that," he rephrased and I sighed. 

"Put it how you like, the answer's the same. I'm not sleeping with you, Micah. Nice try, though. The pep talk was nice, I was even a little flattered," I told him drily. His shoulders sagged and his smile dropped.

"Fair enough, your loss," he grunted, casting off any charm he may have had. I snorted, amused more than anything. 

His eyes wandered back to me at my laugh, and he couldn't help but smile a little too. "Something special," he echoed from earlier, shaking his head.


	28. Promises And Honesty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s a pretty long chapter with a mix of conflict, smut and fluff. I hope you enjoy! Rated explicit, wink wink, ‘cause our man is injured and he deserves some lovin’. Also, I’ve included some HC’s about Arthur’s, *ahem*, romantic experience. These are just my own thoughts, feel free to have your own thoughts and take what I write in my story as just that, my story. I’m not saying this is canon :)

Micah and I headed back to camp after another drink, and it was dark by the time we returned. After the awkwardness passed at the Parlour House, Micah and I ended up having a pleasant evening. I found that he could be a likeable enough guy when he wasn't attempting to flirt or suck up to me, he could even be quite entertaining. Still, two drinks were enough and I was ready to return, eager to surround myself with the company of the other gang members, who were decidedly more comfortable to be around.

Micah was loud as he swung down from his horse, pulling out the money clip and waving it around, singing my praises. It attracted the attention of Dutch, who asked what we'd been up to. I let Micah explain, remaining quiet as my eyes wandered over to Arthur's tent. The canvas was pinned back so he wasn't isolated, and he was sitting upright against the wagon and watching us, his journal open on his lap, pencil in his hand but no longer moving. He was looking at Micah, not seeming to notice my gaze on him, and the man in question distracted me with a hand on my shoulder.

"What'd I tell you, Dutch? She and I do well, paired up together. That was a good call of yours to send us out to that house together all those weeks ago," Micah said, his fingers kneading and rubbing at my shoulder, far too comfortable there. I eased away a bit, until he got the hint and let go of me. That was one thing I could give him credit for; he tended not to push things further than I'd like.

"Sixty dollars is pretty darn good for a bag of broken glass, I must admit that's probably some of the easiest money we've ever made," Dutch replied, giving me a proud smile. "My dear, you have any more ideas where that came from?"

"I could probably think of some," I said, "though, these kinds of things probably shouldn't be done in the same town too often, in case some busy body catches wind."

"Of course, you do what you think is best," Dutch nodded, taking the money that Micah offered to him; the camp's cut. He handed me my share too, and I slipped it away in my satchel before glancing over at Arthur again.

"Anyway, excuse me," I dipped my head politely and went to excuse myself. A hand wrapped around my wrist, and I turned to see it was Micah. 

"Thank you, darlin', for a very pleasant evening," he told me, his tone dripping with his version of charm. I stalled for a moment, taken aback by it. 

"Oh, you're welcome," I murmured. 

"I'm welcome, am I?" He repeated, a sinuous, cheeky laugh following up his words. I retracted my arm and walked away, fast losing interest in whatever sort of innuendo he might be making. 

"Mr. Bell?" I heard Dutch questioning playfully. Micah laughed, secretive and somewhat suggestive. I frowned to myself, trying my damnedest to rise above it, something unpleasant crawling within me at the thought of the assumptions Dutch could possibly come to.

Why couldn't Micah act like the half decent human being I'd seen glimpses of, all the time? Perhaps then, the rest of the gang might actually like him, considering I got the impression that most of them _didn't_. 

I reached Arthur's tent just as Miss Grimshaw did, she was carrying a bucket of water. 

"Here you go, Mr. Morgan, be careful it's not too warm for you," she said, leaving the bucket on his table before turning to undo the strings tying the canvas to the wagon, about to let it swing closed when she spotted me. 

"Thanks, Susan," Arthur told her, his voice sounding tired and monotonous. 

"You have a visitor," she said, shifting to show me to him. He was unbuttoning his union suit, and paused to wave me in. I entered, the canvas falling closed behind me as Susan left us alone in the privacy of the tent. 

I sat down on the chair by Arthur's bed, helping him pull back his union suit so he wouldn't have to strain and pull too hard on his injury. It was healing well, all things considered, but I knew that it still caused him a lot of pain and he wasn't yet out of the woods. The more time went on, the less happy he seemed being cooped up, and I felt so much sympathy for him. 

He left the union suit hanging around his hips, scooting forwards on the bed to reach for the bucket of water, grunting a little at the use of his bad arm. I placed my hand on his chest and reached into the bucket for him, taking out the washcloth there, squeezing it out and bringing it to his body, scrubbing it gently over his chest. Arthur kept his eyes down towards the floor as I washed him. I didn't want him to feel bad about being bathed like a child, so I tried to do it in a way that was affectionate, bordering on sensual so that he might enjoy it, rather than feel embarrassed.

"How'd it go with Micah?" He asked me, and my mind went to his offer in the Parlour House before it went to our job, making my hand still on his toned stomach. I carried on quickly, though, re-wetting the cloth and bringing it to his arm, and he held it out for me to give me better access. 

"You wanna talk about Micah whilst I'm doing my very best to be like them bath girls you mentioned?" I teased him. 

"I mentioned bath girls?" He questioned, head quickly turning to me, eyes filling with dread. 

"The night you turned up here. Ain't surprised you don't remember, you weren't in a good way. All that whiskey, too," I explained. Arthur kept staring at me and I met his eyes, chuckling. "What'chu look so nervous for?"

"I'm sorry if I said anything out of line," he said ashamedly, eyes dropping to where my hands worked across his forearm.

"What? You didn't."

"I've only ever paid for one once, an' that was out of curiosity. Never thought much to it, felt a little awkward if I'm being honest," he told me quietly, "I don't make a habit of it."

"You don't have to explain yourself," I laughed, dragging the cloth under the palm of his hand and kissing at his fingertips. "You made a joke, that's all. We laughed about it."

"Oh, well alright," he murmured. I stared at his face for a moment before taking a breath and answering his question. 

"It went well, anyway. Got sixty dollars, and it turned out being pretty funny… we had people stepping into help us, the con artists." 

"Really?" He asked, lips curling up into something close to a smile. I nodded and he breathed a short laugh.

"Felt a little bad for a moment, but," I trailed off, shrugging. 

"Ain't nothing compared to what the rest of us do," he murmured, going quiet for a moment before adding, "well, I'm glad it went well."

"I figured it'd been a while since I brought in any money."

"You're alright, you do enough."

"How're you feeling, anyway?" I asked, moving onto his other arm; on his injured side. I avoided his dressing and carefully brushed the cloth over his skin. Arthur was silent for a few seconds.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" I peered at his eyes, though he kept his gaze on my hands.

"I'm just… I don't like having to just lie here," he admitted. 

"I know, sweetheart, but you gotta get fit and healthy again. You ain't gonna do that by pushing yourself."

"I know. It ain't so bad when you're here, but," he trailed off and sighed, and my hand froze on his bicep.

"I'm sorry for leaving you, earlier. It didn't occur to me– I thought you were just fed up over not being able to get out yourself," I apologised, and Arthur met my eyes, his widening a little.

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I know I can't keep you chained to my bedside this whole time," he chuckled, "you gotta do what you gotta do. Don't mind me."

"I will mind you. I don't like seeing you upset."

Arthur shook his head and changed the subject. "Saw Micah touching you again, he ain't getting ideas just 'cause you're working with him, is he?"

My eyes widened and I faltered, my heart beating it's way into my throat. It was as if Arthur had read my mind and somehow knew something had happened. He frowned in concern at my expression, and I sighed and decided it was best to come clean, as keeping it to myself felt dirty. 

"I want to tell you something," I began.

"Okay," he sounded nervous. 

"Don't be mad. Micah and I went to the Parlour House after, just to have a drink to celebrate a job well done," I said, meeting his eyes. 

He was staring at me with parted lips, anxiety clear in his pretty eyes. 

My mouth went dry and I shifted the cloth to my other hand and began cleaning his back. "I'm only telling you this in the name of openness, and because it feels wrong to keep it from you when we're… you know."

"Angel," he exhaled, his head shaking minutely. I realised how it was all sounding and was quick to amend my clunky wording. 

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Nothing happened," I assured him and he relaxed a little, sighing out in mild relief. "But he did… offer."

"He offered?" He repeated drily.

"Yes, he tried to persuade me to- to– well, you know what I'm talking about, don't you? I told him no, obviously, and thankfully he didn't push. But I wanted to tell you, Arthur, because I see that he likes to rile people up, twist things, and the last thing I wanted was for some rumour to start and for you to hear it, and–"

"I understand," he nodded, cutting me off with a gruff tone. His jaw was tight and he stared daggers at the ground. "That son of a bitch's lucky I'm injured, if I weren't I'd be out there right now–"

"Arthur, it's fine."

"–knocking seven bells out'a him."

"I don't doubt it, that's another reason why I'm telling you now instead of waiting around until something gets spread and you're fit enough to do something about it. I don't want you fighting him on my account, you get on poorly enough without me."

"He's a bag of shit, sweetheart, with or without you I'm sure at some point I'll bust his face, whether he looks at me wrong or somethin' worse," he growled. I sighed and leaned close, pressing a kiss to his damp shoulder before rinsing the cloth, continuing to wash him. 

"It's not worth it," I told him. 

"Oh, it would be. Nothin' would bring me greater pleasure," he responded, and I caught his eye.

"Nothing?" I repeated, cocking a brow suggestively.

"I hate him so goddamn much," he said through clenched teeth, missing my insinuation. His voice had darkened to that particular tone that always ran right through me and made my insides hum peculiarly. "It's bad enough he's kissing Dutch's ass like he is, now he's tryin'a get a piece of yours."

"Arthur," I breathed, shaking my head and letting out a surprised laugh at his choice of words. "I handled it."

He looked at me, his brows arching unhappily. I kissed his cheek then brought the cloth back to his front, scrubbing it down the center of his torso, over his abs, right above where his union suit covered his more intimate parts. I felt him tense. 

"Don't think about him no more, we're alone right now. It's just us," I reminded him. He went quiet, watching me as I tugged at his union suit; he lifted his hips to allow me to pull it down his legs, leaving him naked. It was the first time I'd seen him completely nude, the first time I'd seen his manhood in decent light from the lantern.

I swallowed, heating up significantly, and began washing his thighs, bending to wash his calves, his feet. Moving up and repeating the action on his other leg. The tent had gone unnaturally quiet, like we were both trying to breathe silently. I pretended not to notice the way his body began to stir at my touch. I rinsed the cloth, biting down on my lip as I gingerly brought it between his legs.

"I could do that," his words were breathy and half-hearted. I tried to be as appropriate as possible, but regardless he hardened further under the cloth in my hand. My heart pounded harder than I imagined it could, thinking about the gang being outside of the tent, completely ignorant to whatever we got up to in there.

"Arthur," I whispered, turning my head but keeping it tilted down, not daring to meet his eyes. "You think if I was to… to do something for you, you'd be able to be discreet?"

I heard him swallow, then he shifted slightly on the bed. "You don't have to do anything."

"Would you be able to be quiet?" I rephrased, making myself look up to his eyes. He bit down on his lip, gnawing for a moment as his face reddened. 

"Angel, I lived out my teenage years living in camps just like this," he started, his voice so very quiet, "I'm more practiced than I care to admit in being quiet."

We shared a breathy laugh, faces lingering close to one another. I pressed forwards and kissed him, rubbing his growing erection with the warm, wet cloth a little more purposefully now. His breathing sped up, his body jerking, lips moving against mine hungrily. His arm reached for me, crossing his chest, twisting his shoulder and making his breath hitch with a shot of pain. I let go of the cloth momentarily to guide his arm back, breaking the kiss and looking him in the eye. 

"Don't do nothin', just enjoy this," I told him and he nodded after a moment. 

I pressed against his chest, prompting him to lean back against the side of the wagon, and I picked up where I left off, my other hand roaming across his chest. He seemed to appreciate my hand's exploration. Though, admittedly I was doing it more out of greed than to bring him any extra pleasure. Arthur's body was incredible. Firm and built with muscle, marred by the occasional scar and oh so beautiful. I couldn't not feel him all over, noting the way his chest hair felt under my palm, the way his muscles flexed when my hand moved over his abdomen, lower down. He was so attractive to me and I found myself enjoying the situation far more than I expected.

He let his eyes fall closed as his mouth fell open, audible breaths leaving him, the occasional, quiet hum of pleasure as my grip tightened around both him and the cloth. I hoped the warm wetness added to the experience. 

"You're so handsome," the words slipped from me of their own accord, so naturally. His chest jerked a bit with a quiet laugh and he opened his eyes to me. "I wanna give you more than this."

"How could you possibly think that this ain't more than enough?" He questioned breathlessly.

"I wanna give myself to you, completely," I divulged to him and his jaw slackened, face morphing into one of deep pleasure. "Would you have me?"

"Jesus– princess, of course I would," he exhaled, his good arm reaching up, hand cupping my face, thumb tracing my cheekbone. A smile formed on my lips and I dipped my head enough to watch my hand working over his length, speeding up. A quiet grunt released from his throat and his hips jerked a bit on the bed. 

"Can't think of anyone else I'd rather experience all this with for the first time," I told him, letting go of the cloth and wrapping my hand around him again. Skin on skin. He loosened a quiet sound, nothing that had me worrying that people might hear. "And I think about us, making love for real."

Arthur's hand slipped away from my face, landing on my shoulder where his fingers squeezed around the material of my top. His eyes closed again, brow creasing. 

"Shit, I'm…" he breathed, not finishing his sentence. I licked my lips and squeezed him firmer, my hand sliding freely as the head of his length grew wetter. It wasn't just leftover from the wet cloth.

"Never wanted it so bad before," I continued, and Arthur shook his head weakly.

"Me neither," he said, surprising me. 

"Yeah?" 

"God, yeah. Cooped up in this tent, no distractions, the mind wanders an awful lot."

"Well, now you know, I promise myself to you. I'm all yours, once you're well enough," I told him, leaning towards him and kissing the base of his jaw, near his ear. I kissed down a little, testing out a few spots on his neck, hearing him breathing hard and fast. 

"Almost there," he whispered in a low exhale.

I hummed a pleased sound, leaning back so I could watch him; my free hand gliding over his chest again, nails raking through hair, palm knocking against a nipple. His abdomen tensed, making his muscles more pronounced. Then, with a soft sigh of my name and the loosening of everything, he came. Shooting up over my knuckles, onto his belly, his breath was hot and laboured, puffing and filling the tent. He managed not to make too much noise; the odd grunt, a loud breath like a heavy sigh, my name once or twice more. I bit my lip as I watched him, my own arousal warm and demanding between my legs. I ignored it.

"That's nice," I whispered, my thumb sliding over the head of his member through some of the slick, lifting off and watching a string form between us. Arthur seemed amused by my fascination, letting me play with him as he calmed down from the peak of his pleasure.

I was tempted to lick at my hand, curiosity rising about what he might taste like. However, I decided against it, letting go of Arthur and reaching for the discarded washcloth. I soaked it in the water before using it to clean both of us up, peeking up at his eyes to catch him watching me with a small, tired smile on his face. My skin heated up at his attention. I averted my eyes back down to his body, wiping up the evidence of what we'd done where it pooled below his navel. 

"Thank you," he whispered to me. I laughed a little, shaking my head. 

"You don't have to thank me for that," I told him and he shrugged his good shoulder. 

"I feel more relaxed now than I have all week, I'm thanking you. That was real nice," he insisted, moving to sit up gingerly once I was done cleaning him. He approached me for a kiss, one that was sweet and simple, tender. 

"Well, I'm glad. Let's get you dressed," I smiled, running my hand over his body to check that he was dry enough; pleased to find the air had dried him off during our deviation.

I helped him back into his union suit – he rarely bothered dressing any further than that lately unless he planned on venturing out of his tent – and once he was dressed I guided him to lay back down on his bed. It was getting late anyway, and Arthur looked sleepy. I stood up, going to get rid of the dirty water, but Arthur reached for me, hand catching my skirt. 

"Leave that. I don't want you to go, yet," he murmured. 

"I'll come right back."

"Mm, just sit for a sec'," he insisted, and I didn't resist. 

I quickly came to learn that Arthur became a little more affectionate after we were intimate; cuddly, clingy even. Though, not in a way I disliked. I couldn't bring myself to neglect his apparent need for closeness, and sat myself down on the chair next to his bed. 

I threaded my fingers through Arthur's where his hand rested on his stomach, feeling the rise and fall of his steadying breath. My eyes wandered to the side of the wagon where a couple of pictures were pinned. There was one of Arthur with Hosea and Dutch, taken a long time ago. They were all very young, Arthur looked like he could be in his teens, certainly no older than his early twenties. There was another photo of a dog, and one of another gentleman. I gathered it was Arthur's father, given the fact he was holding up a board that read _Lyle Morgan_ , and I recognised the hat he was wearing as the one Arthur wore now.

Another photograph caught my eye, one that was framed and sitting on one of the storage boxes in his tent; it was laying face down. I reached for it to pick it back up, thinking it must've been knocked over at some point. I immediately recognised the woman in the frame, looking as pretty as the day I'd seen her in person. It was Mary. I looked at Arthur, his eyes were closed but he opened them after a moment as if sensing my attention. He noticed what I was looking at, his face shifting into something anxious. 

"Do you still miss her?" I asked, keeping my tone light, not accusatory. 

"Not really, not anymore," he told me, "I've kept that photo since we ended things, I held onto her all these years, but I ain't got no reason to now."

"I wouldn't mind if you did. She was special to you," I said, putting the photo down, standing up the frame. He craned his neck to look at it. 

"She was. I guess I… I think fondly of her, but I don't think of her the same way as I used to. Not since you and I," he explained, turning his attention to me. He gazed at me from his pillow, face relaxed, a soft smile on his lips. "You're all I think about now."

His words flustered me and I shifted in my seat, eyes darting all over the tent. 

"You really mean it when you say you'll give yourself to me?" He asked after a moment. I met his eyes again, noting the soft crease of his forehead.

"Of course. When you're all better and the time is right," I said, seeing his forehead soften. "I want to."

"Me too. It would mean a lot to me, I'm not–" he paused, rephrasing. "I haven't shared that connection with many people. Two, in fact."

"Really?" My brows raised and I hoped I hadn't offended him with how shocked I sounded. Arthur simply chuckled. 

"Really. And truth be told, neither of 'em really meant anything at the time. It weren't like you and me, how we are," he explained, and I couldn't help but frown, eyes wandering over to the photograph beside me. 

"What about Mary, surely that was kind of like us?" I pointed out and Arthur shook his head, eyes peeling up to the roof of the tent. 

"She and I never actually went the whole way. We might've fooled around a little, but," he admitted, much to my surprise. "She didn't wanna risk falling pregnant and disappointing her father, she was adamant she'd be married and settled before anything like that. For security's sake. I guess it was the smart thing for her to do."

"Well then, lucky for us I ain't too smart," I snorted.

"If wanting to share a bond like that with someone special is dumb, well, I'm a fool too," he chuckled, then sighed. "It'd be a first for me. I lost my virginity to a prostitute, the fellers we was rolling with at the time's idea of a birthday gift when I turned eighteen. Sometimes I regret that, but I was a kid, too curious for my own good. 

"Then, few years later when things went to pot with Mary, I was stupid and upset, went to bed with the first person who showed an interest and that– that's how Isaac came to be."

I didn't know how to respond to his openness. I certainly appreciated that he felt comfortable enough to be honest with me, and somehow I felt comforted by the fact that he didn't have an awful lot of experience. I'd assumed otherwise, of course, simply because he was perhaps the most handsome man I'd ever seen and he could've used that to his advantage if he wanted.

"And uh, that's my romantic history in a nutshell, I guess," he gave a nervous laugh when the silence stretched on a little too long. I leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

"Thank you for telling me that," I whispered, "I feel better knowing that you and I ain't so far apart."

"And I feel better now I ain't gotta try and live up to any expectations. If I don't do a good job…" he frowned to himself and I kissed his cheek again. 

"You ain't got nothing to worry about. I've liked everything we've done so far. Rather a lot," I smiled at him, wide enough to feel the need to try and stifle myself as to not seem overly eager. 

"I jus' wanna please you," he whispered, reaching up to stroke the side of my face. I leaned into his palm, closing my eyes. "And make it special for you."

"It'll be special," I whispered back. "'Cause it's you, and I care about you a great deal."

"I didn't think I could feel anything like this again," he confessed, and I opened my eyes to meet his. "Thought I'd used up all my chances."

My mouth opened, but I was lost for words. I wished I could think of something to say to him that'd make him feel at least half as warm as I did, instead I just stared at him with an expression I hoped wasn't as blank as my mind. 

_"–I have never known a woman, with so many needs!"_ An irritable voice cut through the quiet, I soon recognised it as Dutch's. 

_"You don't know the first thing about a woman's needs,"_ Molly was slating right back, her words enough to make Arthur and I wince at each other.

 _"How selfish are you?–"_ Came Dutch's response, more annoyance spewing from the next tent, only getting more heated. Arthur sighed heavily, his hand dropping away from the side of my face. 

The little bubble I was in burst as I remembered there was more than just Arthur and I in the world.


	29. A Family, Weakened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for some sad, guys. We all know what happens right after Arthur gets well enough to carry on working, right? So, this chapter contains character death, kidnapping, a lot of angst and suffering… Enjoy!

There was an odd transition when Arthur was fully healed. It took him a few weeks to get back up and about, and things were relatively uneventful around camp until that point; I spent most days doing chores with the rest of the women. But as soon as Arthur was ready to go back to working for the gang, a lot of things seemed to happen all at once. All on the same day. It was an awful lot to take in, but I found myself in a camp with a drastically different mood. Things changed, and it started with a job the Grays had told Bill about. He was heading into Rhodes with Micah, Sean and Arthur to meet them at the Parlour House. 

It seemed normal enough to me, I was used to Arthur going off with various members of the gang to do various illegal things, and I hadn't thought twice about it when I waved Arthur off to go and meet them. I'd sneaked him a kiss by the horses and told him I was glad that he was finally well enough to be back in his routine. 

Then, Bill returned, looking solemn, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, and he'd told us that Sean had been shot and he wouldn't be coming home. Getting much detail out of him had been difficult, but Hosea managed to learn that he'd buried him somewhere quiet, and that it'd been quick. He hadn't suffered. The girls were quiet, none of them entirely sure what to say and although she put on a brave face, I could tell that Karen had been particularly shaken by the news. She'd sat way out on the edge of camp by the water and hadn't said anything to anyone. I couldn't bring myself to speak to her, as she exuded the aura of someone who wanted to be left alone.

Arthur had not yet returned and my chest ached as I was faced with the reality of his lifestyle. Though I felt terrible for it, I could barely think of Sean while Arthur was absent; of course, I didn't know Sean all that well. Arthur, though, meant more to me than I had ever imagined someone could.

It was naive of me to think that we'd hit rock bottom, that the worst had come and the gang could only grow from it, shaped by the loss and carrying on in the memory of a fallen comrade; eager to seek a better life so that his was not in vain. But the horrors did not stop there. Abigail had been marching around camp almost frantically, a frown wearing creases between her brows. When I approached to ask what was wrong I was initially prepared for the same response everyone else had given that day; _I'm fine, I just can't stop thinking about Sean…_ perhaps a few stories about others the gang had lost before I'd joined and the general unrest brought on by a changing world that didn't have room for our kind. 

Instead; "have you seen Jack? I'm sure he's around somewhere, the boy is always wandering off, playing where he shouldn't be," her words were nervous, faux cheeriness failing to hide it. 

"No, I'm afraid I haven't. Have you checked down by the water?" I asked, a frown appearing on my face. 

"Why would you say that?" Her eyes widened just a little and her words came out harsh and scared. 

"No reason other than I know he likes throwing pebbles in the lake, don't worry, Abigail. I'll go and look," I gave a brief touch to her elbow, "have you checked all the tents?"

"Yes, but I'll look again. He's probably messing with me, hiding, or something," she shook her head and huffed out a breath before heading towards John's tent. 

I made my way down towards the lake, scanning the area, calling out Jack's name. A brisk walk up and down the edge of the water along the length of the camp and a bit beyond revealed no signs of the boy. I headed back into camp, stopping by Karen. 

"Hey, Karen–"

"If you're about to ask me how I'm doing, I'm fine! Sick of people thinking I'm some fragile, broken-hearted widow or somethin'," she spat at me, her arms tightly crossed over her chest, hands balled into fists. She was tense all over. 

"I know you're fine, Karen, you're a strong woman and I can see you're just looking for peace. I don't mean to bother you," I assured her, choosing to tell her what she wanted to hear instead of pushing her by begging to differ. 

She acknowledged my words with a grunt. 

"I was wondering if you'd seen Jack?" 

She finally looked up at me at that, her expression softening. "Jack? I haven't, actually, not for a while come to think of it," she told me and I gnawed on my bottom lip. 

"Abigail can't seem to find him."

"Have you checked the lake?" She asked with a morbid expression and I nodded. It brought her some relief, I could tell. 

"I'll help," she said, getting up to look for the boy. 

Checking in with a few other gang members had me getting worried, nobody seemed to remember the last time they saw him; unsurprising considering all thoughts had been with Sean since we heard the news. Abigail returned to me, I could see she was getting more and more concerned as time went on and I couldn't blame her one bit. I was beginning to fear the worst myself. 

"Anything?" She asked me. 

"I haven't seen him, I asked around and they don't remember the last time they saw him. Abigail–"

"What's this I hear about you asking where Jack is?" John appeared beside me, face hardened and his voice harsh. 

"Have you had him this whole goddamn time?" Abigail was quick to admonish him, jumping to conclusions and stepping into his space.

"What? No! I haven't seen him. Are you telling me you've lost our son?" John hissed back. 

"He's _our_ son now? I can't be standing next to him at all hours of the day as well as doing things to contribute to the camp and not have Grimshaw badgering on at me. It'd be nice if you actually thought to acknowledge you have a son _before_ he wanders off on his own somewhere and scares us all to death!"

"Please, this ain't no time for arguing. This ain't nobody's fault," I stepped halfway in between them, glancing back and forth at each angry face. 

"What's going on over here?" Hosea cut in, concern etched into his face as deep as his worry lines. He looked particularly tired lately, between Arthur's injuries and Sean's death, the stress seemed to be getting to him. 

"We don't know where Jack is, Hosea. He– he's gone. My son is gone," Abigail was beginning to border on hysterical and I reached for her, putting an arm gingerly around her shoulder in a bid to provide some kind of comfort. 

"Calm down, Miss Roberts, where did you last see him?" Hosea asked in a level voice. 

"I think I saw him by the horses last, but that was hours ago. This morning!"

"Alright. Try to keep calm, has anyone spoken to Kieran?" He began, and when nobody said they had he went to find him. "He's always by the horses, perhaps he can help."

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening. If anything happens to him!" Abigail lamented, it sounded as though she was trying not to cry. 

"Abigail, just take a breath, alright? There's no sense in working yourself up, thinking the worst. We'll find him," I did my best to console her, rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades. John had gone uncharacteristically quiet, watching Abigail with a soft curve to his brows. 

Hosea passed by quickly, Kieran close behind him. They headed towards Dutch's tent and the look on their faces made my stomach churn. I saw them speaking, couldn't hear much but I heard the word Braithwaite come up, and Abigail heard it too. She brushed passed me, out from under my arm and briskly headed towards them. I turned in time to see Arthur returning, Dutch immediately asking if he'd seen anything of Jack. He hadn't. 

I hung back as Abigail demanded to know where Jack was, to hear whatever Hosea had been in the midst of telling Dutch. I made my way over to Arthur, and we shared a worried look as Dutch implored Abigail to relax, promising that they'd find him. 

"Kieran saw a couple of fellers sniffing around, we think they were Braithwaite boys. I can only guess it's them that took him," Hosea filled everyone in. 

"They _took_ him? They took my boy?" Abigail was no calmer despite Dutch's reassurance and my heart shattered for her.

My arm instinctively made its way around Arthur as everything hit me at once. First Sean, now Jack? I looked up at him, it being at the forefront of my mind that to Arthur these people were real family. He must've been feeling a million times worse than I was. 

"Are you alright?" I asked him quietly, and he peeled his eyes away from Dutch to look at me. He looked distant, a little dazed, like things weren't quite sinking in. At my words he came back, his eyes focusing a little more. 

"Oh, yeah," he mumbled monotonously. 

"Arthur, I'm s–" 

"Don't," he shook his head, a pained look in his eye. 

I closed my mouth and nodded. 

"I'll talk to you later," he told me, looking me right in the eyes. I stroked his back until Dutch turned to him. 

"Arthur, come on. We're going to get that boy back," he said, and I let my arm drop as Arthur moved to follow him obediently. "Micah, Kieran, you two keep guard. Shoot anyone who ain't welcome here." 

"Just heard about Jack. You need extra guns, Dutch?" Bill called out, approaching flanked by a number of other men from the gang.

"The more the merrier. And you," he turned to me, making my heart stop momentarily, "you and the rest of the girls, you keep Abigail company. Make sure she stays calm."

I nodded, watching as everyone mounted up, realising it was just about all of the men going to get Jack. The sight of it warmed my heart despite the harsh circumstances, it served as a reminder that these people were all out to look after one another. They were family, through and through. 

Once they'd disappeared into the treeline, I turned to Abigail who had her arms wrapped around herself, trembling, eyes glued to the ground. I closed the gap between us and put my arm around her shoulders, guiding her over to the campfire where the rest of the girls stood watching, all looking equally saddened. 

"You see that, Abigail? All of them fellers are going out after him, Jack is going to be alright," I said to her, sitting her down by the fire. 

"She's right. Nobody'll be able to hurt him with the whole Van Der Linde gang around to protect him," Mary-Beth agreed, kneeling on the ground by her feet. Karen, Tilly, Sadie and Susan all took a seat nearby too. 

"Keep your chin up, darlin'. That boy can't have gone far. The Braithwaites might be stupid but they ain't evil, I'll bet they have no intention of harming him," Susan said, reaching over to pat her knee. 

"Uhh, Mi- Miss Abigail? I'm… I'm sorry. I told Dutch about them boys hanging around, I never thought that this…" Kieran was on his way to stand guard but paused to offer a few tentative yet apologetic words. Abigail shook her head bitterly and he quickly scampered off, guilt oozing from every pore. 

Most people looked as if they didn't know what to say. Karen and Sadie just watched with an expression somewhere between dread and sympathy. Tilly was sat with her head buried in her hands. Molly stood the furthest away, looking concerned while not daring to come over and say anything. I was struggling too, I'd tried my best at comforting Abigail but I knew there was very little I could say to a mother who was missing her child. The best we could all do was stay with her and provide our support. Even Pearson, one of the few men who hadn't joined the others, came over to offer a few kind words and ask if Abigail wanted anything to eat or drink.

The hours the men were gone were torture, so cripplingly nerve-wracking and long-winded. I felt sick the entire time, so I couldn't bare to think how Abigail might be feeling. Jack was such a kind, quiet, sweet boy. I was sure no harm would come to him in the end, it would take a special kind of evil that I didn't believe the Braithwaites were capable of to harm an innocent child, but I still couldn't shift my anxiety over the situation. 

By the time they finally arrived back, it was late. Molly had gone to bed, Tilly and Karen were trying their damnedest to stay awake, Mary-Beth had failed and had fallen asleep curled up against the side of Abigail's chair. She was clutching a daisy chain in her hand, I remembered it from the night Jack and I had made it together; it was a little browned and shrivelled now, but I found it sweet that she'd kept it. Abigail herself, of course, was wide awake, and Sadie and I were too. I was tired but I was restless where I sat under the cover of the shelter by the fire, I'd taken to drawing to try and distract myself and pass the time. I drew Jack, or at least tried to without a reference, but I'd scribbled out the last two attempts so it wasn't going well. 

I discarded my sketchbook when the men arrived, though, immediately jumping up to my feet with the rest of the people by the fire. Mary-Beth sat up with a start, murmuring something incoherent before she woke properly too, and joined us all where we started crowding around the hitching posts. 

"Where is he? Where's Jack?" Abigail called out, eyes desperately trying to search for signs of him on someone's horse. 

"We think we know where he is, but it'll require a trip to Saint Denis," Dutch explained, sliding off his horse. "Don't you worry, Abigail, we'll get him back."

"So you keep sayin', but you're still standing there!" She cried, a weak sob following her words. 

"We've no reason to believe he's in immediate danger. Right now we need a moment to get our heads straight. None of us have slept, going all the way over to Saint Denis in the middle of the night, all guns blazing, is not going to achieve anything," Hosea tried to reason with her. "And you need sleep too, my dear, you'll run yourself ragged, staying up and worrying."

"You expect me to sleep, the way I'm feeling?"

"I expect you to try. Abigail, he is safe. We will get him back, safe, as soon as we figure out how to go about it."

"He's right, Abigail, you need rest," I tried, reaching for her. She shook my hand from her arm and stormed off with a loud sigh. I let her go, staring sadly after her.

"What happened with those awful Braithwaites?" Mary-Beth questioned. 

"We delivered what was coming to 'em," Hosea told us. 

"Burnt down their whole goddamn mansion, killed most of 'em," John elaborated bluntly, strutting past everyone towards his tent.

"Ain't a lick more than they deserve, the sick scum," Karen hissed, spitting onto the ground in distaste before walking away. The crowd gradually dispersed as Dutch and Hosea encouraged everyone to go to sleep, and I searched for Arthur. He was by his horse, giving him an affectionate rub on the neck. 

I gingerly made my way over to him, trying to make my footsteps audible so I wouldn't startle him. He glanced over his shoulder at me, stared for a moment, then without bothering to check if anyone was watching, he took my hand and led me over to his tent. He'd opted to keep the extra canvas up since his recovery, growing used to the privacy it provided. Letting it close behind us, he didn't bother lighting a lamp or anything, he just sat down on his bed and pulled me down to lay with him. It was a tight squeeze for sure, his bed being big enough to realistically fit one person, but we managed if we wrapped our arms around each other and pressed in tight.

We fidgeted a lot to get comfortable, and I must've asked about five times if I was hurting his shoulder, but he insisted he was fine. I didn't know whether to speak, I hadn't completely worked out what sort of mood he was in. I just held him, let him hold me, enjoyed the chance to be so close to him and surrounded in his warmth and safety. I figured I would say one thing, and let him make his mind up about where he wanted to take it. 

"I'm here for you," I whispered, "it's been a difficult time lately."

The camp was quiet, I couldn't hear a peep out of anyone for the longest time, it was so uncharacteristic. Usually there was something going on, Javier with his guitar, Uncle singing a song I didn't recognise, Pearson telling a story about his time in the Navy, Sean loudly laughing about something or another… My heart gave a sickly squeeze and I pressed my face into Arthur's shoulder, breathing in the smell of smoke and sweat that was much stronger than usual but brought me comfort. I thought he might've fallen asleep, but at my movement, he spoke. 

"Feels like it's getting harder and harder to just exist, people like us," he said very quietly. "Though I guess it's no one's fault but our own, we've been poking the bear an awful lot lately."

"Things are changing fast," I mused.

"Both of 'em knew we was playing them. The Grays luring us into that shootout, the Braithwaites taking Jack away. That poor kid, he ain't asked for any of this."

"You'll get him back."

"I know. But even so, he's just coming back into a life where we're constantly running. People around him dying, the only family he knows. That's no childhood."

I agreed with him, but I wasn't going to say it and sink his mood any more. 

"Sometimes I think about–" he stopped midway through his sentence, silencing himself abruptly. I waited for a moment, but it didn't seem like he was going to carry on. 

"About what?" I prompted, smoothing my hand over his back. He remained quiet for a few moments more and when he finally spoke again, it was in an almost inaudible whisper.

"About just getting out of here," he admitted, shocking me into more silence. "I couldn't… these folk mean too much to me but sometimes, I can't help thinkin' that all this is doomed, and we should all just quit while we're ahead."

"I can't pretend I don't see your point," I responded, blinking into the darkness against his plaid shirt. "Things feel so different since I first joined you folk."

"Jus' think; John and Abigail could raise Jack proper, make a life for themselves. Charles, he's a good man, he could do good things with his life. Maybe start a family of his own. The girls, they could have lives much safer than this one, have proper homes. I don't know about the rest of 'em, lot'a these folk would probably keep on living on the wrong side of the law, but for some…" he sighed sadly, squeezing me tighter and turning his head to press his lips against the side of my head.

"You think about this often?"

"Not till recently."

"And what would you do?" I asked, and he took a long while to respond. 

"Me? I'd… I don't know. This is all I've ever known. I'd probably try and live somewhere out in the middle of nowhere, somewhere far out from these more civilised lands where no one'd come looking. Though, I spent so long moving around so much, I don't know if I'd be able to keep still."

"Now that's a feeling I can relate to."

"So… maybe I'd go travelling, making money however I could as I went. Honestly, I mean. I'd just live on the move, never staying too long. Never letting civilisation catch up to me. Price on my head is way too high to ever be forgotten about, I don't think I'd be able to live a peaceful life in one place."

"It's that bad?" I murmured. I knew Arthur was wanted, I knew he had bounties, but I did not know to what extent.

"Yes. Real bad," he sighed, "but it's all well-earned, I assure you."

"So if you got out, you'd just have to live on the run anyway?"

"Probably. But maybe… if I travelled far enough, I might just be able to convince myself I was merely a wanderer," he gave a quiet chuckle, and we remained silent for some time. 

I spoke after a while, the question gnawing at my mind. "Would you spend the rest of your wandering days alone?"

"Well, that depends on what sort'a life you'd wanna carve out for yourself," he told me softly, bringing a hand to the back of my head and stroking through my locks.

"I wouldn't wanna do anything that meant never seeing you again," I replied. 

"So I guess… would you wanna join me? If you could stand spending the rest of your life running for my sake."

"Well, I've spent a long time moving around. I get restless being in one spot, running wouldn't be an issue for me, if you'd have me," I shifted, pulling back so our faces were close, even though I could barely see him. 

"I'd always have you, princess," he whispered. 

I pushed forwards to kiss him, adjusting as necessary when my lips met his chin in the pitch black of the tent. He kissed me back with a hot intensity that somehow remained tender, fingers tightening in my hair enough to tilt my head and make me melt into him, completely losing myself in the kiss. 

He broke the kiss when we were breathless, and my heart was pounding.

"Arthur I think– no, there ain’t no _think_ about it, I know. I'm falling in love with you. Real hard," I whispered breathily, my fingers tightening in his shirt, my body pressing into his. In response to my words, Arthur made a soft humming sound, tilting his head under my chin and pressing his lips there. He kissed me a few times where he knew I wasn't ticklish before murmuring against my skin. 

"Don't matter what's happening, what's going through my head, the moment I kiss you everything goes away and all I feel is like I'm the luckiest man alive. I don't ever want to lose that. I'm falling for you as well, so fast I can barely keep up with it," he told me, his voice vibrating against my neck. 

My eyes closed and I let out a breath, my body humming away with a unique pleasure I'd never felt. 

"You're the most beautiful person I've ever known," he added, and I made a light, involuntary sound.

Arthur's hand wandered down my side, resting on my hip and squeezing there. I subconsciously lifted my leg and hooked it over his, bringing us closer still. I was struck with the urge to make love to him stronger than I'd ever felt before, intensifying at his pleased, hushed moan.

"I wish we were someplace else, I jus' want you so bad," I breathed. 

"Don't tell me that, I _will_ ride us out somewhere private right now just so we could–"

"Sleep, you need sleep," I blurted out, "God, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

"You ain't saying anything I ain't already thinking," he chuckled half-heartedly. I kissed him once more, something much tamer.

"Should I go?"

"No, stay here. Unless you couldn't sleep like this?" 

"I'm sure I could," I giggled. His arms tightened. 

"Then settle in, sweetheart. Sleep tight," he whispered. I dipped my head under his chin and snuggled down for the night. 

"Goodnight, Arthur."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. This story passed 100K words, holy shit. Well, technically it passed that a while ago (I currently have 35 and a bit chapters written but don't tell anyone), but for you guys, it just passed it! This is definitely my biggest project to date. Whew boy.


	30. On The Move Again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk what to say about this chapter other than a little bit of fluff? A little bit of angst? A little bit of pissed off reader? Just.. mucho dialogue, as per usual with my stuff lmao. 
> 
> Just wanna let y’all know that I go back to uni tomorrow (I start back really late, I’ve realised) and I’m going into my final year, so I will likely be busy. BUT, I hope to keep posting enough that you wont notice much of a difference, but yeah. If updates become a little less frequent, it’s not cause I’m getting bored of writing this :) side note… I’m so fucking ready to be done with university!

Arthur woke me up gently, dusting kisses over my face and petting my hair, whispering my name and rocking me in his arms to rouse me as delicately as birdsong. For about thirty blissful seconds I completely forgot about our circumstances, so enamoured with the feeling of waking up with him. This was something I had only done a handful of times but if this was every morning I would be a very happy woman. 

"Good morning, angel. I'm sorry to wake you, but I gotta get up," he whispered to me, his hand still smoothing over the back of my head. 

"I don't mind waking up if this is the first thing I see," I murmured sleepily, making him laugh. 

"I gotta say, it was real nice for me too," he said, kissing my forehead once before wrapping his arms around me and rolling us over until he was above me, though dangerously close to the edge. He slammed a hand on the table next to us before we ended up on the floor together and we laughed as he shuffled us back into the middle of the bed. 

"I don't want us to get up," I sighed. 

"Me neither, but we gotta figure out what's happening with Jack," he said, and it all came tumbling back to me. 

"Oh God, yeah, you know I was almost at peace for a second," I grunted, dropping my head back against the bed and trailing my hands up Arthur's sides. 

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, nestling his face against my neck and inhaling deeply. "I can hear Dutch out there. I ought to go out and talk with 'em, hopefully he's figured something out."

"Alright," I whispered, patting his back a couple of times before releasing him. 

With a groan Arthur pushed himself up and off of me, sitting down on the edge of the bed and stretching, rolling his neck and grunting as his joints popped. His jaw stretched open with a yawn, one which I caught and mimicked shortly after. I shifted to join him sitting up, and after taking a moment to straighten out our clothes and tidy our hair, we rose to our feet and emerged from the tent. It struck me how shameless we seemed to suddenly be about what was going on between the two of us. It had gone unspoken, but I believed both of us had frankly stopped caring about who knew and who didn't. 

Regardless, nobody noticed us leaving the tent together, too preoccupied to care, thankfully. Dutch, Hosea and John were sat around the table talking; Arthur joined them and I pottered off, leaving the men to it and instead heading to grab my morning coffee. I caught sight of Abigail sitting on the ground on her bedroll with her knees hugged into her chest, eyes distant. I opted not to disturb her, taking a seat with Tilly and Mary-Beth in front of their wagon. 

"Morning, girls. How're you two holding up?" I greeted them. Tilly was washing a chemise while Mary-Beth was distractedly stitching a white garment that I quickly noticed was dappled with a few specks of blood. Before any of them could even answer I spoke again. 

"Mary-Beth, you're bleeding!" I pointed out, reaching out and taking her hand in mine. 

"Oh! Oh shoot, what a mess. I pricked myself earlier on, didn't realise I'd drawn blood," she plopped her finger in her mouth and sucked on the injured digit. I put my coffee down and took the garment from her; it was a stocking with a tear in it. 

"I'll finish this, don't worry. There ain't too much blood on it, no harm done. 'sides your finger."

"I'm away with the fairies this morning," she shook her head at herself. 

"Ain't we all. How're you, Tilly?" I asked. 

"About as well as you'd expect. The other day I couldn't stop thinkin' about how bored I was, now I'd happily take boredom over all this mess," Tilly sighed, sitting back on her heels and shaking her hands free of water. 

"I'm confident the men'll get Jack back," I assured them both. 

"Me too, it's just all the worrying until then. Has Arthur said anything to you about where he is?" Tilly asked me and looked up at her, momentarily – and frankly unjustifiably – surprised that she'd asked me about Arthur. 

"Oh, no, he hasn't," I said after a pause. 

"How is he doing, anyway? He's been awfully quiet lately," Mary-Beth began, "not that he ain't usually quiet, but you know what I mean."

"Arthur? He…" I paused, looking down at my sewing. "I reckon his injury knocked it out of him for a bit, he didn't much like being cooped up. Then of course, first thing he does after getting back out there is watch Sean– it's understandable. I jus' think he's going through it a bit."

"Well I hope he knows he can come talk to any of us if he needs it. Though, I suppose he has you for that, now," Mary-Beth commented. I looked at her, a light frown on my face. 

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, we ain't idiots," Tilly laughed "it's extremely obvious that you and him are somethin' more than friends."

"No, that ain't what I meant. You don't think I'm… stealing him, hogging him away from all of you, do you?" 

The two girls looked at me, two sets of eyes going wide for a few long seconds before they both laughed. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that," Mary-Beth patted my knee, "I just meant he has you to open up to now, I ain't surprised if he don't talk to us about that stuff all that much anymore. I don't mind it, it makes sense."

"Before you came along, if Arthur was going through a rough patch, he'd come speak to one of us women. That ain't happened in a while so we figured he was talking to you instead, is that not the case?" Tilly added, picking the chemise out of the bucket and squeezing the water out.

"Oh, no, he does," I nodded, thinking back to the previous night, all his talk of getting out of here, no matter how idealised the thoughts were. Mary-Beth leaned forwards a bit, inspecting my expression. 

"Everything okay between you two?" She asked. 

"Between us, yes, everything is wonderful," I told her, a small sigh escaping me. "I just wish everything else was the same. I don't like seeing him worried. I'm worried too, but I know it ain't a scratch on how he must be feeling."

"Well, I'm just glad he has you. That man deserves a bit of love, that's for sure," Mary-Beth said, "after Mary, and everything that's happened to him."

"Mary-Beth," Tilly said, her tone a warning. 

"What?"

"You don't bring up a man's past relationships to his new lady," she chuckled, shaking her head. I smiled in amusement.

"It's alright. I know about Mary, even met her once. Well, not really _met_ , saw her from a distance."

"Really? Oh, well I admit I was a little worried when I heard she was around. She practically carved the poor feller's heart out and spat on it. He was real excited when she agreed to marry him, I don't know how she could do that to him," Mary-Beth sighed. 

My heart thumped uncomfortably and I stared blankly at her. She noticed my silence and looked at me, the colour draining from her face soon after. 

"They were engaged?" I asked, my voice small. 

"Oh, Mary-Beth," Tilly said tightly, shaking her head. 

"I thought you knew," Mary-Beth covered her mouth. "Oh, goodness. I'm a fool."

"No, no it's fine. I've no right to be upset," I shook my head, snapping myself out of it. "I guess it just surprised me, I didn't know it'd gone that far."

I understood better why Arthur had been so deeply hurt by her. Why he'd held onto her for years, why he'd kept her photo, why he'd acknowledged her letter and gone to meet her despite the pain he knew it'd cause him. She was the woman he'd loved so much he'd wanted to share the rest of his life with her.

"No, you're upset. Oh gosh, forget this I'll do it later," Mary-Beth snatched the sewing from me and tossed it aside, clasping my hands in hers. "This was years ago, he's clearly moved on and he has you, he's completely taken by you, it's so easy to see."

"I don't need reassurance, like I said, I have no right to be upset over something that happened before he even knew me. He has his own life, how awful would I be to turn sour over him living his own life?" I forced a laugh, shaking my head. 

It was true, I had no reason to be upset. And I wasn't upset, not with Arthur, he'd done nothing wrong. But I did feel something cold and sickly and gross in my tummy and it was startlingly close to inadequacy.

"Mary-Beth is right, he's crazy about you. I watched him drawing you the other day when you weren't looking. Never seen the man look so peaceful," Tilly added, moving closer to join us. She put a hand on my shoulder as she sat beside me. 

"You did?" I sputtered, eyes going wide and my face going hot.

"Yeah. You were brushing your horse and he was at that table over there just watching you, sketching away in that journal of his. I'd love to see what's inside that thing," Tilly giggled. 

"I bet it's real romantic," Mary-Beth remarked, her voice low and tender.

"It never occurred to me that he might write about me in there," I thought aloud. 

"You should sneak a peek while he's sleeping," Tilly whispered and I flashed her a disapproving frown. 

"Oh, I couldn't. That'd be a violation of his privacy," I said. 

"I guess," Tilly sighed glumly. "You should at least ask him."

I shrugged my shoulders. "I reckon I might prefer the mystery."

"Might be full of things he's too scared to say, could show a soft, vulnerable, tender side to him that his tough, manly lifestyle forces him to hide," Mary-Beth stared off into the distance, her expression nothing short of dreamy.

"Good lord, Mary-Beth. You really have to stop reading those novels," Tilly laughed and Mary-Beth playfully swatted her arm. I couldn't help but smile, eyes wandering over to Arthur across the camp. That smile quickly faded though, when I noticed Lenny approaching the group with two men I did not recognise. 

"Hey, Dutch! We got a problem," he called out, pointing his gun at the back of the men, keeping a close eye on them as they walked towards Dutch. 

The men were well dressed in suits and ties and bowler hats, the second of the men had a gun slung over his shoulder. Something told me they weren't friends of the Van Der Linde gang. I stayed put as the men exchanged a few words. 

"Crap, that's the Pinkertons, I reckon," Mary-Beth hissed under her breath when she noticed. The gang slowly surrounded the group, forming a crowd that couldn't _not_ be at least a little intimidating. I rose to my feet, crossing the camp towards them to listen in on what was happening, aware of the fact that Tilly and Mary-Beth were hanging back. 

"I don't know if you're aware but this is a civilised land, now. We didn't kill all those savages to allow the likes of you to act like human dignity and basic decency was outmoded or not yet invented. This thing, it's _done_ ," the first gentleman was announcing when I got close enough to hear. The atmosphere was so dark and thick, it was like I could taste it or smell it, it was foul like the contents of a spittoon.

"This place ain't no such thing as civilised. It's man so in love with greed he has forgotten himself and found only appetites," Dutch responded, his words so well articulated, spoken almost like poetry right from a book. 

"And as a consequence, that lets you take what you please, kill whom you please and hang the rest of us? Who made you the Messiah to these lost souls you've led so horribly astray?" The agent questioned, eyes scanning the crowd around him. His eyes found me. "Oh, and who is this? You must be new, haven't heard anything about you."

Dutch and Arthur looked my way, Dutch's expression stony and serious, Arthur's immediately turning to painful worry. 

"Leave her–" Arthur started, abruptly cut off by Dutch. 

"You'd single out a lady whom to your knowledge has done nothing wrong? That doesn't make you a man any more than threatening the likes of me does," he said. Hosea, who happened to be closest to me, pushed me behind him and obscured their view of me.

"Whether or not any of you lowlifes consider me a man is of no importance to me. I am here to offer you all a deal. You, Dutch, come with me and I'll give the rest of you three days to run off, disappear and go live like human beings someplace else," he bargained, and I stared at the back of Dutch's head, my heart in my throat as I awaited his response.

Dutch chuckled.

"You came for me? Risked life and limb in this den of lowlifes and murderers so that they might live and love? Ain't that fine?"

"I don't wanna kill all these folk Dutch. Just you," the agent stared at Dutch with such disdain I could practically feel the second hand effects of it, creeping hotly up my arms like vines.

"In that case, it'd be my honour to join you," Dutch's words were low, pleasant, "excuse me friends, I have an appointment to keep, with…"

The metallic clicks sounding out across the crowd rose hairs on my neck, weapons being readied, the threat loud and clear. 

"I think your new friend should leave now, Dutch," Miss Grimshaw warned. It was clear that nobody here was prepared to let the men take Dutch away. And Dutch… he was well aware of this.

"You're making a big mistake, all of you," the Pinkerton glowered, unsettled and frustrated, losing his grip on the situation he was so evidently being overpowered in.

"Yeah, dreadful. We have got something. Something to live and die for, how awful for us. Mr? Milton, stop following us, we'll be gone soon," more cool, velvety words from Dutch.

"I'm afraid I can't, and when I return I'll be with fifty men. All of you will die. Run away from this place you fools. Run!" 

"Come on," Lenny grabbed his arm, got him moving only to be shaken off.

"Get your damn hands off of me, boy," and with that, the gentleman returned from the direction they came. As they disappeared through the trees, the air seemed to clear just a bit. It left behind an unpleasant sludge but at least I felt I could breathe. 

The crowd dispersed as Dutch turned to Arthur, the men spoke quietly and I backed away, shaken by the experience. I knew that the Van Der Linde gang were wanted, chased by a dozen different groups of enemies, but actually seeing the evidence standing in the middle of the place we were all meant to feel the safest was difficult to wrap my head around. 

-

I found myself with Javier again, I'd sought him out when Dutch made the announcement that we were moving again, so I could help to take some tents down like last time. We worked together well enough. We were taking down Arthur's first, deconstructing the canvas and posts, loading everything up on the ammunition wagon it all attached to. I was tasked with carefully unpinning his photographs from the side of it so that they wouldn't be lost in transit. Javier and I weren't as talkative this time around, but his choice to start this particular conversation vexed me.

"This piss you off?" He asked, holding up the photograph of Mary. I frowned at him. 

"No," I simply said. 

"Alright," he said innocently. "I just thought, since you and him…" he trailed off. 

"Whatever he and I are, he's allowed to keep a photo of a person he once held dear," I said, packing away the keepsakes in Arthur's chest. I took the photo from Javier and it joined the rest.

"So, are you guys serious?" He asked. When I didn't answer him, he walked around to stand in front of me, folding up Arthur's bedding. "Micah's been sayin' some stuff."

"Micah," I repeated, looking up at Javier. "Micah doesn't know anything about Arthur and I so take it with a pinch of salt."

"No, not about Arthur, 'bout you and him, at the Parlour House," he told me. 

I stared for a moment, mind failing to conjure up a response. 

He smirked, though he seemed surprised. "So something did happen?"

"What's he been saying?"

"Nothing, really. It's all vague suggestion, was saying it 'round the fire the other night when you were in here with Arthur," he explained. "I know you and Micah have had some tension, with that kiss that day."

"What the fuck did he say?" I reiterated, getting irritated. 

"Said stuff like you and him make a good team, the usual crap. But then he talked about you two going out drinking at the Parlour House, you two had fun together, got along real well. Said it with this smirk on his face," Javier told me, wearing a salacious smirk of his own. "Didn't make it hard to read between the lines."

"Right, so basically, he's tryin'a start a rumour about me and him? What, that we kissed? Slept together?" I scoffed, and Javier shrugged. "Well, here's a rumour, spread it all you like. That bristly faced creep _asked_ me to sleep with him at the Parlour House that night, an' he's clearly feeling hard done by considering I rejected him. And don't worry, Arthur already knows about the whole damn embarrassment and I talked him down from beating him, but I'm sure he'd reconsider if I jus' said the word." 

With every word I stepped closer to Javier, poison in my tone that wasn't really directed at him. The corner of his mouth curled up and he leaned away, holding his hands up in surrender. When I was finished, he let loose a chuckle. 

"Alright, I got you, loud and clear."

"I've been trying my damnedest to find the best in him, I know there's _some_ decency in the man, but, by God. He's making it real difficult for me not to join the rest of 'em in hating the bastard," I huffed, feeling my face flush with embarrassment mixed with anger.

"Ay, it's okay. I never really believed him. Don't think anyone else did, either, we all saw how you were when Arthur got fucked up by the O'Driscolls," he reassured me, putting a hand on my shoulder and gingerly pushing me backwards, out of his personal space.

"Yeah well, even so, I don't take kindly to someone making me out to be somethin' I ain't. Say if someone did believe him, then watched me hanging around in Arthur's tent all these weeks, they'd think I was a real piece of work," I muttered, snatching the pillow from Arthur's bed and putting it in the wagon, then moving to roll up the thin padding that served as a mattress.

Javier laughed. "I think you're overestimating people's ability to give a damn. Even if it was true; you wanna get it on with half the gang, that's up to you. Wouldn't be the first girl," he snickered. 

I cocked a brow at him. 

"Could'a been any one of us in John's position," he shrugged. My head whipped around towards where Abigail was, helping pack with Sadie and Karen. 

"Oh, I ain't gossiping. Stop it," I muttered, shaking my head. 

"Alright, muñequita," he chuckled, "no more gossip."

"What does that mean?" I asked. 

"What does what mean?"

"Mune– mune– that word you said," I shook my head, the unfamiliar word dissolving in my mind before I could repeat it.

"Muñequita?" He smirked at me, looking a little surprised that I'd asked. A little embarrassed, even. "Oh, nothing. It's a… just a name. A term of endearment."

"Oh, alright. It's a pretty word," I shrugged my shoulders and smiled at him. 

"Means _little doll._ People don't tend to ask me what I'm saying, so I'm a little caught off guard," he laughed, shaking his head and turning away from me to lift up the bed frame. "The name seemed to suit you. Those jobs you do, putting on all these roles, playing pretend. Like a little kid's doll." 

He leaned the bed up against the wagon and turned to me, appraising my reaction.

"Well, playing pretend…" I started, pursing my lips in thought. "I guess I can pretend it ain't me robbing people blind. It's Jemima Jones." 

Javier laughed through his nose, tilting his head down. 

"Jemima Jones. She's a clever girl, but don't let her take all the credit–"

"I'm glad you two are gettin' along so nicely but if you remember, we all have the threat of death hangin' over us until we get packed up and gone. Get moving!" Miss Grimshaw hissed as she marched passed us. 

Javier and I shared a glance before getting back to work.


	31. Shady Belle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is quite lengthy and I really enjoyed this chapter. It’s a good mix of moods; good and bad. We make the move to Shady Belle and reader has a little conflict with Micah, Jack comes home, and there’s some fluffiness with Arthur.

Arthur was waiting there for us when we all pulled up on the loaded wagons. Shady Belle. A big, old, abandoned house in the swamps of Lemoyne that had been ravaged by the years but somehow remained standing, the place that'd serve as our home for the foreseeable future. I couldn't help but look at the place in awe, it was a mess of missing or boarded up windows, rotting wood, overgrown plant life, it was nature reclaiming the spot. But gosh, it was a house! Walls, a roof, an honest to God house! And it would've been beautiful in its time that's for sure, with a large garden complete with a gazebo and a dried up fountain. Funny; even with all of its flaws, it was still the fanciest place I'd ever called home. 

I hopped down from the wagon I'd ridden up on, pulled by Rayna and Kieran's horse, and sped over to Arthur, a smile spreading across my face. 

"Look at this place!" I breathed, shaking my head in amazement. He chuckled at my excitement, twisting around to take in the face of the house too. "It's big. And it's pretty!"

"You know what else is _big_ and _pretty?_ " I heard Micah say under his breath, all dirty and gross. I spun around to see him leaning in towards Bill, his hands grappling at two rounds in the air in front of his hips, body gyrating in a crude way and my virginity didn't stop me from understanding exactly what he was mimicking doing. His eyes caught mine and he straightened up, dropping the act and turning away, laughing to himself. Bill didn't look as amused as Micah probably hoped he would; the man looked perpetually pissed off anyway. 

"Yeah, it's sort'a pretty. Part of me reckons it's a shame it's been left to wither away like this, but if it hadn't, we wouldn't have the chance to stay here," Arthur replied to me, not hearing or seeing what Micah was up to. I put a smile back on my face and let it go.

"That's true. So, some other gang was using it before us?" I asked, looking around and seeing the sand bags all piled up along the path up to the house, like some sort of fortress. 

"Lenny and I stole some weapons from them a while back," Arthur nodded, "there was a couple of stragglers still hanging about, but John and I dealt with 'em. We should be safe here."

"Thanks for sorting this place out, Arthur," I gave his arm an affectionate squeeze and he looked down at me. He didn't seem to know how to respond to being thanked. 

"Jus' doing my duty, tryin'a make sure we've got someplace to go," he shrugged. 

"And you're doing a damn good job of it."

"Arthur!" Dutch called out, making his way over to us. "Come take a ride with me."

"Sure, what's happening?" Arthur replied.

"We're gonna get Jack back. Today! That boy's been gone long enough, come on."

-

The rest of us stayed and set up the camp at Shady Belle, moving some stuff inside and setting up the tents next to the house. The bedrooms upstairs were divvied up much to my expectation, there was an unspoken rule that Dutch always got the best sleeping arrangements, followed by the perceived highest ranking members of the gang. 

Dutch got the master bedroom complete with a double bed that I assumed he'd be sharing with Molly, John got the second largest room that he'd be sharing with Abigail and their son once he was back safe and sound. Arthur got a room too, and I was tasked with setting it up for him. It was the smallest, but there were no holes in the walls like John's room, so it was nice. Everyone else? They could either sleep outside by their usual wagon or shelter, or they could find a nice spot on the floor inside. 

The bear pelts that Charles, Arthur and I had acquired were in use by then; Charles had one, often sleeping atop it beside Hosea, another was by the girls' wagon as a first come first served kind of deal. Mary-Beth and Tilly slept on it mostly, but sometimes they'd insist I take it since I'd killed it. Sadie and Karen didn't seem to care either way, content to sleep on the usual blanket like normal. The third bear skin was floating around the camp, sometimes Susan would nab it, other times one or two of the men would sneak it away; Lenny and Javier mostly. Most of the gang was used to sleeping in less than cozy places so it didn't cause any real arguments, much to my relief. 

It was a busy day of setting up the new camp; I set up Arthur's room and tried to make it as cozy as possible even with the put out window leaving it open to the elements. I set up his bed in the corner, along with his shaving things and his chest. I retrieved all of his photos and keepsakes and set them up on an old shelving unit by the door that'd been left there. I pinned the pictures up carefully, standing up the photo frame of his mother on one of the shelves. I stared at the photograph of Mary for a little while, thinking about her and Arthur, imagining the two of them being in love enough to commit to marrying each other; the thought of it made my heart ache a bit, despite the fact I knew how silly it was of me. 

I stood the frame up on the shelf too, anyway. It didn't matter that my own insecurities made me feel a certain way when looking at her, Mary was as much a part of Arthur's life as I was, and I wasn't going to hide her photo away in his chest like a child. 

After tossing out a bunch of dried up leaves that'd floated in through the window, I went back outside to join in putting up the tents again. It was a good thing I was used to erecting and collapsing a tent from my history of living in one, I was a dab hand at it. By the evening we were all set up, and I began helping Pearson with dinner. I noticed Dutch drop in to whisk John away, and overhead him saying that they'd found Angelo Bronte, whoever that was, and that they were going to get Jack back. That was a relief. 

Once dinner was ready, I sat myself down in the gazebo, away from everyone else, to catch a few minutes alone to eat the stew we'd prepared. It had been an overwhelming few days, and I needed some time to be away from people and to have some quiet. I was annoyed, then, when Micah came swaggering towards me with a cigarette. Admittedly, he didn't seem to be seeking me out on purpose; I'd spotted him walking around the house, exploring the place, but when he saw me his course diverted straight towards me. 

"Hey, princess," he greeted, and I recoiled at the pet name. Arthur called me that, it was the name he used for me the most. I did not want to associate the word with anyone other than him, especially not Micah. 

"Do you mind not calling me that?" I requested, and Micah cocked a brow. "I'd just prefer it if you didn't."

"Of course, sweetheart. That better?" He laughed.

"I guess," I shrugged. 

"You look nice today, your hair like that," he pointed at me, then climbed the steps to join me in the gazebo. 

I gave him a small grateful smile at the compliment; my hair was simply pulled back into a bun to keep it out of the way. 

"And the dress. I prefer you in a dress over those pants you sometimes wear. You don't wanna look like that widow woman, what's her name, Adler," he added.

I scoffed a disbelieving laugh. I liked Sadie, and she'd taken to wearing pants just like I sometimes did and I honestly felt grateful that I wasn't the only one. It wasn't a style that was universally accepted, evidently. 

"What? She stomps around this place, all ill-tempered, tryin'a be like one of the fellers, it looks like," Micah snorted at my reaction. I pursed my lips and looked away, over towards the swamp where I could see a gator floating there, motionless, creepy.

"Don't be cruel," I warned. 

"Didn't realise you two were friends."

"I don't really talk to her," I admitted, a little sadly. It was true, Sadie and I rarely spoke, but it wasn't on purpose. At first I didn't know how to speak to her, considering she was deep in the clutches of grief after her husband died, but since then it was simply a case of never having the chance. "But she seems nice. She pulls her weight, too, you can't argue with that. I know you have certain feelings about the women here not doing their bit."

"Sure, I guess you have a point. Anyway, I was complimenting you, not wantin' to talk about _her_."

"Thanks," I said flatly, "but I don't really care if you prefer me in a dress. Pants are practical, that's why I wear 'em. Ain't a fashion parade."

"You're acting all pissed off," he noted.

"I wouldn't go that far."

"What's wrong? You and I used to be friends," he whined, stepping closer and sitting down next to me on the sand bags piled up inside.

"You think of me as a friend?" I raised my eyebrows at him. His mouth opened and his bottom lip twitched, stunned into quiet for a moment.

"Uh, yeah," he said, like it was obvious, then he raised his chin a bit, "I think of everyone here as a friend. More than that, you're all family."

"I figured you thought of me as a joke," I shrugged, looking back towards the gator. Micah was silent for a while, processing my words. 

"What makes you think that, sweetheart?" 

"Sweetheart," I snorted, "don't bother. You know I saw you earlier on with Bill, and I know you've been saying things, putting crap in people's heads around the campfire."

"I made a joke with Bill, is it a crime to laugh a little in these trying times?" He drawled. "And I don't know what you're talking about, putting stuff in people's heads."

"I heard you, saying things that'd mislead someone into thinking that you and I–" I cut myself off, not wanting to say it. I also didn't want to incriminate Javier, so I twisted the truth.

Micah chuckled. "I think I know what you're talking about, but I gotta say, Miss, you must have a dirty mind to come to such conclusions. I was merely sharing what a pleasant evening you and I had at the Parlour–"

"Don't talk bullshit. You knew exactly what you was doin' because it is just like you to push peoples' buttons. Please, Micah, be a goddamn man and not an overgrown boy," I hissed, rising to my feet. Micah blinked at me, shocked. 

"Wait, you're actually pissed off with me?" He stammered. 

"I'm insulted by you," I corrected him. "I am not a toy for you to play around with, having fun at my expense. I am not a source of entertainment for you, and I won't sit by and listen to you fiddle with other people's perceptions of me."

"Sensitive, ain't you? Nobody cares about you!" He raised his voice, and I recoiled. In a second, his words caught up with him and his face dropped. "That did not come out the way I meant."

"Oh, I'm sure."

"No. Really, I– I meant that people don't have no perceptions of you, nothin' I could say would make anyone think any less of you. It's _me_ they can't stand, you think I'm too dense to know that?" Micah stood up too and gestured to himself with both hands. I might've imagined it but I thought I detected a hint of vulnerability in the way he said that. 

"I wonder why!" I gave a hollow laugh and Micah frowned. "All you do is wind people up!"

"Maybe I'm just an abrasive kind of person," he muttered, "can't help who I am."

"No, you ain't. Micah, you can be a nice guy when you wanna be. I've seen it. When you came and apologised to me at Clemens Point. When we've worked together and you've just shut up and listened to me and been respectful of my plans and ideas. When you sit and listen to people's stories around the fire at night and leave out any childish remarks. You ain't abrasive by nature, I don't know why you do it, is it boredom?"

Micah just stared at me with a slack jaw, his eyes wide and brows curved upwards. 

"Just, stop talking about me behind my back. Stop winding everybody up!" I sighed, pushing past him to leave. 

"Wait a second, let me tell you somethin'," he called out after me. I stopped in my tracks, despite wanting to keep going. "I think you're a good woman, I'd go as far as sayin' I'm fond of you, alright? If there's anyone I might actually care about hating me, it's you."

"I don't hate you," I told him as I turned back to look at him. 

"No?" He questioned hopefully, then came down the steps to close the gap between us. 

I shook my head, and a ghost of a smile touched his mouth. He put his hands on my upper arms and pulled me towards him, tilting his head as if he was about to kiss me. I didn't let him get far, jerking backwards and out of his grip; his smile disappeared. 

"Arthur," I blurted out unthinkingly, my mind unable to communicate anything more than just his name. Micah's shoulders dropped and he sighed. 

"Yeah, I get it, you're sweet on Morgan. But he ain't gonna all of a sudden fall in love with you just 'cause you played nurse with him for a couple weeks and y' keep following him around every-goddamn-where, alright?" He ground out through gritted teeth. I stared blankly at him. 

_Did he really not realise?_ I'd assumed that everyone in the camp knew about us by then, we hadn't exactly been subtle over the past few weeks. People assumed and people talked, I thought it was common knowledge. The look on Micah's face, however, told me otherwise. 

"Oh. I guess I'm a moron, then," he said, tone oozing irritated sarcasm.

"I just thought everyone knew," I peeped, noticing redness creeping up his neck and to his cheeks.

"I knew you had a soft spot for him but I didn't know anything had actually gone on between you two. Thought Morgan was too yellow to be a man and make you his woman, either that or he weren't interested. Don't think I've ever seen him so much as look at a woman since I've been here, was starting to wonder about him…" he trailed off, his tone mean and judgemental. 

I rolled my eyes at him, something that did not go unnoticed. 

"Don't you roll your eyes at me, try to make me feel stupid," he snapped. 

"There you go again, talking crap."

"I can't help the way I am, princess," he said, swinging his arms out to his sides grandiosely. 

"I asked you not to call me that," I said abruptly. 

"Why? In case your little boyfriend hears me and gets upset? He don't scare me, you know, he might be big bad Arthur Morgan, the neanderthal they all send out to intimidate folk, but he don't scare me one bit," he strolled over to me, making wild gestures with his hands. "He ain't so special. Bet he don't know the first thing about pleasing a woman."

I scoffed and turned around, walking back towards the main camp.

"Touched a nerve there, have I, sugarplum? Pretty boy Arthur couldn't point to which hole it goes in if y' asked him to? Wouldn't surprise me if you pulled his pants down and there was nothin' there," he shit talked all the way to the fountain and I spun around to him, getting in his face. 

"Don't you worry about that, Micah, just remember he ain't the one having to _ask_ me to get into bed with him. Don't you worry at all," I spat, jabbing my finger in his chest and making him back up in surprise.

I stared at him for a few moments more, daring him to say something else. He kept his mouth shut, thankfully, and soon my anger was ebbing and I couldn't believe my own outburst. I backed off, feeling my knees shake as I did, averting my eyes, spotting someone from the corner of my eye and almost crumbling with humiliation. Kieran was just sat there on the ground, leaning up against one of the wooden barriers that were built where we kept the horses, smoking a cigarette. We held eye contact for a few long seconds before his peeled away to look at Micah. 

"I ought'a string you up for ear-wigging, you nosey little shit!" Came Micah's sudden outburst, and he lunged towards Kieran. I grabbed hold of his arm before he could get further and Kieran was up on his feet, hurdling the fence and scampering off. "Yeah, run off, O'Driscoll!"

"Leave the man alone, he was just smoking a damn cigarette!"

"You like making me look like an idiot, huh?" He directed his poison at me and I flinched. 

"No, I didn't know he was there," I said meekly. 

"You know what? I'm done. Only reason I wanted you was so I could fuck a virgin, anyway," he sneered at me, then sauntered past me.

I stood there for a moment, brows slightly raised, heart thrumming and making me feel all funny and lightheaded. The sun had set and the stars were beginning to show and a glance up to the sky showed me a full moon, a trick of the night making everything look brighter. It was later than I thought. With a sigh I sat myself down on the edge of the fountain, grateful for the drop in temperature the night brought. These parts were just as sticky and hot as I remembered them, with air thick and wet enough it felt like you couldn't pull a decent breath.

I watched Kieran with his horse in the distance, his arm thrown over it, his other hand stroking its face. I didn't blame him for keeping to himself one bit. He glanced over at me, offered me a small, apologetic smile. I gave him a limp wave in response. 

I missed Arthur. All I wanted was to crawl between his arms and stay there. I hated arguing with Micah, part of me regretted bringing anything up in the first place, wishing I'd just been polite from the start to avoid all this. But I couldn't just let him keep getting away with needlessly acting like an asshole behind my back. Micah and I were probably through with being friendly, given the words he'd spat in my face. Whether they were true or not, they weren't pleasant to hear. Perhaps I was wrong to see any good in him. Perhaps he really was just a nasty, angry little man.

I wasn't sat there long before I heard hoof beats on the path. I looked up to see Dutch riding back, flanked by Arthur and John– and Jack! I stood up quickly and pulled in a sharp breath, a smile lighting up my face at the sight of him. 

"Abigail!" I shouted, not knowing where she was or if she'd even hear me. 

"We got him! Abigail, we got your boy!" Dutch yelled, slowing to a stop in front of me and swinging down.

Abigail came running into view as John lowered Jack down from the horse. 

"He's fine," John called out in reassurance, and Jack ran towards Abigail. I could almost cry seeing her reunited with him, hugging him tightly as the boy relayed stories from his time away, about the food he'd eaten. He was adorable, and thankfully unscathed.

"It's good to have you back, Jack! We all missed you," I told him, coming up behind Abigail and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"You got my son back," Abigail said, her voice wavering with emotion. "Dutch, Arthur, thank you." 

I looked at the three men gathering before her, at Arthur and Dutch's silent nods, at John's dejected expression. Without a word to him, Abigail was guiding Jack into camp, smiling wider than I'd ever seen her, grabbing my hand and pulling me along with her. 

"I got my son!" She called out as the other members of the gang all got up and came rushing over, each person wearing a bright smile. It filled me with just enough optimism for me to forget about all of the crap with Micah. Soon enough, Dutch was calling out to everyone to drink and enjoy the night, Jack's return called for celebration. 

It felt good to have something to celebrate, with everything that seemed to have been going wrong. 

I hung back and watched as everyone gathered around the campfire, Javier beginning to play his guitar, gracing us all with his smooth voice as he sang us a song in his native tongue. My smile didn't shift as I watched them all, merrily dancing and joining in on the chorus, little Jack in the middle of it all with the cutest little grin on his face. Family. One that I felt a part of, especially when someone walked past and pushed a beer into my hand; Lenny, smiling at me as he went and joined the others. 

I opened up the bottle and took a long drink, not even caring that the beer was especially warm from the Lemoyne heat. 

"Hey," Arthur came up beside me, letting his hand come to rest on the small of my back. 

"Oh, I'm glad to see you," I breathed, tilting my head and resting it briefly on his shoulder before straightening up again.

"Yeah?" He smirked, amused. "You miss me, since you saw me this morning all those hours ago?" He teased a little drily.

"Yeah, actually," I nodded. 

"Mm, me too," he hummed, moving his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side.

"I'm so pleased you all got Jack back, feels like things suddenly got a little better," I said to him, wrapping my arm around his waist. 

"Yeah, it does. It's good to see everyone celebrating, too."

"You wanna go and join 'em? Don't let me stop you, I just like to watch from the sidelines."

Arthur shook his head. "Nah, I ain't much in the mood for a party. Truth be told, I'm ready for some peace and quiet," he chuckled, "it's been a long day."

"You wanna go see where you're sleeping? I made up your room," I said, and he met my gaze with a certain look in his eye. I could see the reflection of the fire flicker in his eyes and I pressed my lips together, itching to kiss him.

"Sure, show me," he finally whispered. 

I led Arthur into the house and up the stairs. The place was completely empty, everyone outside singing and drinking, enjoying the opportunity to really let loose with permission from Dutch. We entered his room and I stepped aside to let him in, watching as he closed the door behind him. He glanced around the place, at the peeling paint and the broken window, over to his bed and finally to his right where all of his keepsakes were. 

"You like it? This is one of the best rooms in the house, lucky boy," I giggled, hearing him laugh through his nose as he turned to inspect the photos on the shelf. I struck a match and lit the lamp sitting on the table by the window.

"It's gonna be weird, having a proper roof over my head. Where're you sleeping?" He asked, picking up the photograph of Mary before glancing at me. I looked down at it before meeting his eye.

"I don't know, wherever I drop," I shrugged, fiddling with the cuff of my shirt as I watched him flip the photo frame over and bend back the little clasps keeping the back on. 

"Well, my bed was comfier with you in it, so if you wanna join me in here," he said casually, pulling the back of the frame off and plucking out Mary's photo. He then fished around in his satchel for a moment, and I frowned, finally unable to hold back my questions. 

"Arthur, what're you doing?" 

"I hope you don't mind," he started, retrieving a piece of paper from his bag and sliding it into the frame, reassembling it. "Took this the other day when you was sitting by the lake. I don't use my camera all that much, but I had nothing else to do while I was loitering around camp, not quite ready to get to work again."

"You have a camera?" My brows rose.

"I was gonna just take a photo of the lake, it looked pretty with the sun setting. I wasn't being a creep, I promise," he chuckled, "anyway I saw you there, and I took your photo. Had some spare time in Saint Denis today; had it printed so I could do this."

He placed the photo back on the shelf, and I stepped forward to take a look. I flushed a little at the sight of it, I'd never had my photo taken before and it caught me a little off guard to see myself. I was sat at the end of the jetty, cross-legged with Cain, a dog that had wandered into camp one evening. 

"I didn't realise you'd taken a photo," I laughed in surprise. 

"No… I know. I should've asked," he murmured, sounding a little ashamed. 

"I don't mind," I assured him with a smile. 

"That night when you noticed I'd kept Mary's photo, I just thought it– it'd be nice to have one of you, instead," he explained, and I turned and took his hands in mine. I tugged on them and he bent down to my level, joining our lips together in a sweet, short kiss. 

I wrapped my arms around his neck when our lips parted, resting my chin on his shoulder as his arms encircled my waist. I could hear Javier's song through the window, and Arthur slowly began to sway me in time to the rhythm, his feet shuffling, eventually we were spinning in slow circles. I giggled quietly and he changed his hold on me, taking one of my hands and pulling back to smile at me as he led me in our own private little dance in the middle of his room. He lifted my hand and twirled me around, catching my waist and pulling me in close again.

"I've never danced before," I commented, and Arthur made a humming sound. 

"You're so beautiful," he whispered into my ear, "I don't tell you that enough."

"Arthur," I gave a breathy, bashful laugh and pressed my face into the side of his neck.

"I don't think I ever really have, have I?" He added thoughtfully. "Well, there you go, I think you're beautiful. Not just your face, everything." 

"I don't know what to say," I mumbled like a fool, my heart beating so hard I bet he could feel it.

He leaned forwards, tilting me back and making me squeak in surprise, before bringing me back up again. He chuckled, tilting his head down and kissing my neck. Our dance dissolved as he got distracted in kissing me, his lips trailing down to my shoulder, along my arm, down to my wrist and my hand. He kissed each one of my fingertips, his eyes closed, and I bit down on my lip as I watched him. Inside I felt abuzz with affection for him, his tenderness making me feel like nothing ever had before. 

"I wanna make love to you," I whispered, and he froze, his lips against the underside of my wrist where my pulse sped. "I want to."

"Princess," he exhaled, opening his eyes and meeting mine, "I'd like that more than anything."

I moved in to kiss him again, this one hotter than the last, but not rushed. His hands settled on my waist and he kissed me back for a moment until I pressed my body up against his, then he held me steadily away from him and broke the kiss. 

"Not here, I don't want your first to be in a place like this," he whispered. I couldn't keep the sadness from my eyes and he cupped my cheeks. 

"I don't care," I shook my head. 

"I do. Our friends are right outside, I wanna be able to talk to you, make sure you're alright without worrying what people might hear," he explained. I nodded in understanding, my eyes dropping to his chest. "How'd you feel about riding out to Saint Denis, now?"

It surprised me, I thought he was saying no. 

"Well, it ain't far," I shrugged, a smile crossing my lips, one he returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's right. The good (hopefully) stuff is coming! Hope you're excited for the next chapter ;)


	32. Hotel Grand

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is. The one where Arthur pops reader’s cherry. I really hope this is worth all of the build up, I would love to hear what you think, I worked very hard on this chapter! :)
> 
> I’d just like to thank Hoodoo for reading through this chapter weeks and weeks ago for me, even though she isn’t in the fandom. She’s a very talented writer, and I definitely think you should check her out (especially if you have any interest at all in orcs/fantasy stuff, she has some really cool stuff going on!) https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoodoo
> 
> Without further ado, get yourself a cup of your preferred beverage, settle in and enjoy!!!

Arthur and I snuck outside and over to the horses, mounting up on Jet together and heading away from camp. We passed Charles on the way, he'd volunteered to keep guard for a little while, and I was grateful it was him who saw us leave. Arthur asked him to make sure nobody worried if they realised we were gone, explained we were just heading to Saint Denis. He didn't give him any more detail and Charles didn't push for it, but he told us to have a good night with a smile that didn't have a trace of the suggestion one from anyone else might have. I appreciated him. It pained me that what we were planning on doing was so unavoidably blatant, but Charles made it a little less embarrassing. 

We rode into Saint Denis, my chest pressed up against Arthur's back tightly, it was more than a little pleasant sharing a horse with him with the excuse to hold on so firmly. Saint Denis had changed a bit since the last time I visited a number of years previous, it seemed bigger, but I still recognised it. I knew where to go and gave Arthur directions, and eventually we hitched Jet up outside the Hotel Grand. The place was fancy, just like most places in the city, but not so fancy as to make me feel like I daren't touch anything. We headed inside and I insisted on paying for the room, reminding Arthur that I still owed him for the room he paid for way back in Blackwater. He'd found it amusing that I still remembered that, and let me.

We headed upstairs to the room, hand in hand, and I hated to admit that I was beginning to feel nervous. My palms began to sweat and I knew that Arthur must be feeling it; even so, he didn't comment. He let us into the room and shut the door behind us, locking it. The room was lit by two wall sconces either side of a lovely wooden four-poster bed topped with burgundy, floral patterned sheets. The room was quite small, with enough room to fit the bed with fair walking room around each side, and a wardrobe against the wall opposite the foot of the bed. Two large windows occupied the far wall, and Arthur was already heading over there to draw the curtains and shut out the city. 

I made my way over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and bouncing up and down a little, pleased with how cushioned it was. Though, anything would be an improvement on a plain bearskin rug. 

I heard movement behind me, a number of clunks as Arthur removed his boots and gun belt, then the bed dipped and he was crawling up behind me. He shifted and scooted on his backside, sliding his legs either side of me so he was sitting on the edge behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. I felt his lips at my neck as he nuzzled his face against me, inhaling my scent and surrounding me with warmth.

"You still wanna do this?" He asked me in a quiet hum, one hand moving around to my back, dancing up my spine and to the nape of my neck where he played with the baby hairs poking out below my bun.

I turned my head a little. "Of course," I whispered. 

Arthur reached for my bun, removing the few large hair pins holding it in place and running his fingers through it to loosen and free it. He leaned over and put my hair pins safely on the table beside the bed before returning his hands to me; letting them trail up my sides, close to my breasts and back down again. His hands were so careful and they set my pulse racing, one slipped to my neck, holding my hair aside as he kissed along the back of it. Then he was carefully popping open the buttons that ran down the back of my blouse, untucking it from my skirt. With shaky hands I pulled it off of me, discarding it as Arthur blessed my newly revealed skin with more kisses. 

"If you ever wanna stop, don't be scared to say," he told me, ghosting his hands up my front, taking my breasts in his hands over the top of my corset cover, squeezing them gently in his palms. I bit down on my lip and let out a breath as I nodded.

I'd never been so heavily clothed during our previous encounters, in the back of my mind I began to overthink the act of getting out of it all. He still had three more damn layers to go; would he get bored before we could even start? 

"My turn," he whispered, letting go of me and leaning back enough to slide his suspenders down his arms and pull his shirt off. I turned my head and smiled at him as I began to unbutton my corset cover, tugging it over my head soon after. Arthur hummed pleasantly when he saw me in my corset, running his fingers down the lacing at the back, settling his palms on the curve of my waist. 

"Stand up for me?" He asked timidly, and I did just that, turning to face him. He took my hands and let his eyes wander over my body, the ruffles of my chemise poking out above my corset the only thing hiding my breasts. "God, you're beautiful."

I smiled bashfully at the complement. "Help me, won't you?" I asked, then lifted my leg as I hitched up my skirt. 

Arthur caught my foot in his hand and held me steady as he pulled the laces loose, tugging them slack before sliding the boot from my foot. He brushed his hand up and down my ankle for a moment, admiring, but soon had to let me go since I started hopping on my other foot like a clumsy fool. We shared a laugh as I offered him my other foot and he repeated the process. I took my boots from him and set them on the floor, letting him watch me as I loosened my skirt and petticoat, shimmying them down and removing them completely. 

Left in just my corset, chemise and drawers before him, Arthur licked his lips as he looked me over. He scooted forwards and took my hand, using it to spin me around just like he had when we danced together at Shady Belle. He made a small sound of appreciation, then spontaneously pulled me onto the bed. I gasped and laughed, surprised as he crawled and hovered above me, kissed his way down my throat and to my collar bone. 

"You look incredible like this, let me savour it for a little while," he whispered, his hand wandering south, dancing along my inner thighs. His fingers sought out the split in my drawers, meeting bare skin and dragging up, coming so close. I moaned quietly before he even touched me for real, prompting Arthur to lift his head and meet my eyes, a smirk behind where his teeth trapped his bottom lip. 

"Take– take this off?" I breathed before he got too far, my hands grasping at his union suit. He paused and sat up, pulling open the front – it was a wonder he didn't rip off any buttons – and sliding it down off his shoulders, baring his chest to me. He left the rest of his union suit as it was, the top half hanging down over his jeans, and I brought my hands to his chest to explore. 

Arthur watched me as I smoothed my hands over his torso, brushing through the soft hair, feeling the hot, mild clamminess of his skin, fingertips daring to pass along the edge of the new scar tissue his run-in with the O'Driscolls had earned him. I sat up enough to kiss him there when the urge to do so became too strong. He let out a soft sound then his hand was at the opening of my drawers again, coming up to touch me for real, fingers sliding between my folds and feeling the slick already forming there from his attention.

I gasped, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders and pulling him close, feeling his hips press into my side, rolling forwards. He stroked me in slow, firm circles, working me up quickly as he subtly ground his growing erection against the side of my thigh. I heard him groaning quietly in my ear and it made me flush ferociously. I brought one hand between us, sliding between his body and his union suit, down until I could feel the brush of his pubic hair. I paused for a second, gathering my nerve before closing the distance and wrapping my hand around his length, pulling up.

"Fuck," Arthur sighed, moaning my name into my ear. I bit my lip.

It was impossibly hot in the confines of his pants and I stroked him slowly, feeling more comfortable with the act after a little time and the encouragement of his sounds. Arthur lifted his head, giving me no time to react to the kiss he planted on my mouth, eager and hungry and sweet. I moaned into his mouth, parting my lips and inviting his tongue inside, gingerly meeting his with my own and moving it in time. My hips rolled of their own accord when Arthur slipped a finger inside me, soon followed by a second that pressed against my walls, stroking a delicious place that had me breaking the kiss to release an indecent sound.

"Oh god, Arthur. That's so good," I exhaled, rolling my body in time with his fingers, riding them. He made a quiet humming sound, thrusting his hips into my own hand, reminding me to keep focused on him, too. 

I withdrew his erection from his clothes, pushing his jeans down to his thighs – Arthur finished the job and kicked them free of his legs – and I adjusted my grip on him, stroking faster. He growled out a moan, dipping his head against my chest.

"You better be careful, sweetheart," he murmured. My hand immediately froze.

"Did I hurt you?" I blurted out, making him chuckle.

He shook his head but didn't lift it. "No, but you might make me cum," he said.

I felt my face heat up at the blunt admission and slowed my hand, but Arthur pulled away from me after a few moments.

"Isn't that a good thing?" I asked a little sheepishly as he shifted on the bed, coming to kneel between my legs. He smiled at me, he looked a little amused. 

"Sure, I guess so. For me. Not so much for you," he explained, tugging on my hands to get me to sit up. He reached behind me and pulled on the lacing of my corset, loosening it before helping me unhook it at the front to remove it. "And I'd rather hold on a little longer myself, you know."

My blank stare made him pause, and realisation washed over his expression. Then his mouth turned down a little awkwardly.

"Oh, I guess you don't know," he mused, eyes dropping as if searching for the words in my chemise. He was a bit pink in the cheeks. "If I cum, I can't carry on like you might be able to. It don't work like that for us fellers, unfortunately."

"Oh, I'm sorry," I murmured, feeling a bit foolish.

"Hey, how were you gonna know? You ain't got one," he chuckled, cupping my cheeks and kissing my forehead. When he pulled back, he reached for the hem of my chemise and looked to me for permission before lifting it up and pulling it over my head, revealing my breasts to him. 

Arthur didn't hide the fact that he wanted to have a good look at me like that, letting his hands follow his eyes on their journey up and down my bare torso. 

"You're so lovely," he whispered to me as he moved forwards and peppered kisses over my body, starting at the hollow of my throat and moving down between my breasts, over the creased impressions on my stomach where my corset had held.

He flicked his eyes up to mine a little cautiously as he moved back up, one hand cupping my left breast, his mouth going to my nipple where he circled it with his tongue, all the while studying my reaction. I sighed and leaned into the touch, such a pleasant sensation, one he mirrored on the other side, sucking the bud into his mouth as it hardened. His hand moved back between my legs, fingers pushing in, thrusting slow but firm against my sweet spot. 

"So beautiful," he added after releasing my nipple, his fingers rolling it in his mouth's place. "You like this?"

I nodded eagerly and he chuckled. 

"Arthur, please," I found myself sighing. 

"Please, what?" He asked earnestly. 

"I want you," I told him, making him flush and falter. 

"You think you're ready?" He queried, fingers still working to make me shudder and writhe. I nodded. Arthur nodded too, withdrawing his fingers only to unfasten my drawers and remove them. 

He paused once I was naked, eyes settling between my legs, moving up to my chest, back down, all over me. It was the first time he'd seen me fully undressed and his erection dripped, stringy and clear, onto the bed sheets. Suddenly, he looked about as nervous as I had been feeling before. Regardless, he shed the last of his clothes too and crawled up between my legs, guiding my thighs either side of his hips, putting us close together. His length brushed against me, coaxing him forwards to rub against me on purpose, sliding through the slick of my core as his arms encircled me and pulled me close for a kiss.

He felt so warm between my legs, so good, I could only hope it felt as pleasant once he was inside me. 

"Don't let me hurt you," he whispered to me, pressing his forehead to mine, "I mean it, if it hurts even a little bit, tell me."

"I will." 

"I've never done this with a… with someone who's never done it before. I don't know how much it's supposed to hurt, or if it's even gonna, jus' promise me you'll stop me if–" he didn't finish, I was nodding before he could and so he just trailed off.

He looked down, his hand going between us and wrapping around himself. He dragged the head between my folds, slicking it up. His breath came fast and laboured. My heart was pounding in my ears so loud. _It was finally happening._

"Fuck, can take being shot at by lawmen, but this…" Arthur said under his breath, ceasing movement. 

"Do you want to stop?" I asked, disliking the way his voice wavered anxiously. 

"No, I ain't scared for myself. I don't wanna mess this up for you, my first weren't nothin' special, I want yours to be perfect," he shook his head, "are you ready?" 

I nodded. There was just a few seconds of nothing, then he guided his length to my entrance, pressing forwards carefully. I could feel him spreading me open, stretching me like nothing – not even my own fingers – ever had. A sharp pain that was somehow dull at the same time came on quickly, and I inhaled sharply, squeezing his shoulder. He stopped immediately. 

"Is it in?" The words left me in a rush before he could pull out. 

"No, not– I mean, the head almost is," he told me and my eyes widened. "Does it hurt, or just feel different?"

"Both," I told him honestly and he started to pull out, but I stopped him. "Hold on, just give me a second."

He did just that, waited patiently for me, dotting kisses on my cheeks. I waited until the pain had subsided, then gave him the nod to continue. He didn't get far, pushing in little by little, only to have me gasp when I felt a sudden breech, like he hadn't really been inside me at all until that one moment, and there was a flare of pain. I couldn't stop him pulling out then.

"Shit, I'm so sorry, angel," he breathed, hand going to my thigh to stroke comfortingly. 

"I'm fine, it ain't that bad!" I reassured him breathlessly. 

"It ain't supposed to be bad at all," he lamented, frowning to himself. 

"Just try again, I just need to get used to it," I assured, touching his cheek and making him look at me. 

"I don't think you're ready, yet," he said. 

"What? No, I'm ready, I want this, Arthur don't–"

"I mean you ain't _ready,_ right this moment. You need to be real relaxed," he shook his head, scooting backwards and bringing his fingers to my folds again, finding my clit and rolling it faster than he had been before. "Can I try something?"

"Yes, anything you think'll help," I nodded, relaxing into the cushions as he pleasured me again. I felt a little sore but he was taking care of it.

"You don't like it, I'll stop," he assured me, then moved further back until he was laying between my legs. I watched on curiously as he played with me, his free hand stroking up and down my thigh, coaxing my legs open wider. He pressed kisses against my inner thighs, then pushed his fingers inside me as his mouth drew closer to my center. 

I clocked what he was doing and my eyes widened. 

"Where're you going with that mouth, Arthur?" I gasped, receiving a cheeky smile from him.

"You gonna tell me to stop?" He questioned. After a moment, I shook my head, then he was closing the gap.

His mouth met me between my legs, his tongue circling my clit and licking at my folds. It was experimental, the way he did it, shy wouldn't be the word but he didn't seem confident in what he was doing either. But good lord, was it incredible. I moaned loudly, rolling my head back against the cushions when his lips closed around my clit and applied gentle suction, broken up by firm massaging from his tongue. 

"I'm starting to understand those bounties, this is damn _criminal_ , what you're doin'," I sighed, my body arching, driving myself firmer against his mouth as I felt him chuckle. 

His free hand explored up and down my inner thigh, tickling me, making my tummy do flips almost as much as the ministrations of his tongue. There was something so intimate about being pleasured this way, and while it made me feel embarrassed if I thought too much about it, the way it felt made sure I didn't overthink for long. 

His fingers stroked a spot inside me that made my legs weak, he paid such pinpoint, perfect attention to it that I could feel myself growing close to my climax in no time at all. I was grateful when he didn't slow, I felt him moan against me when my hand flew down to his hair to keep him there, fingers carding through his locks. I felt his other hand moving up my body, interlacing with my own where it once laid balled into a fist at my side. It was a reminder to relax, and as soon as I did–

"Oh, fuck!" I gasped, highly unladylike of me, when I reached orgasm. Trembling on the bed as my body pulsed, squeezed Arthur's fingers. 

His mouth let up, moving to kiss the creases where my legs joined my body on each side, moving up to kiss below my navel, all the while rocking those fingers on that spot, bringing me down while never letting me hit the ground. I wanted him more than ever. 

Arthur came forward again, not removing his fingers, keeping me going, licking his lips and wiping the wetness from his chin before dipping his head against the junction of my neck and shoulder. He lavished attention there, echoing my moans as his mouth closed over my flesh, sucking gently. It was overwhelming in the best possible way, and I simply laid there clinging to him and singing out my enjoyment unabashedly. 

"D'ya like that?" He murmured to me, as if he needed to ask.

"Yes," I sighed, wrapping my legs around his hips and grinding up against him, feeling his arousal against the dip of my hip. "Do it, please," I breathed.

"You sure?"

"Yes," I squeezed him tightly, felt his hand retreat to fist his length, felt the head of it nudge against my opening. 

He pushed in, I felt that same pressure and stretch as he eased deeper. There was a slight amount of pain but not nearly enough to make me react, and Arthur released a deep, drawn out moan as I welcomed him. A smile passed my lips when I realised he was deeper than he ever had been, a sense of achievement, almost. I was wet and relaxed and I felt little more than slight discomfort at the unfamiliar intrusion, but the realisation that we were connected filled my chest with something new and wonderful. 

"You alright?" Arthur asked me breathlessly, peeling his head up to look me in the eye. I smiled at him and nodded, then he edged forwards a touch more and I felt his lower body press against mine, he was completely buried in me. He moaned out my name, his forehead meeting mine.

"Arthur," I sighed, unable to restrain my smile. My legs tightened around his waist and I found myself grinding against him, feeling him shift inside me and releasing a gasp. He felt huge, stretching me so much, but the discomfort I felt was overshadowed by enjoyment at being connected with him so intimately. 

Arthur kissed me, his lips needy and warm against mine, and he pulled his hips back just a bit, thrusting back in and groaning deeply. The slow drag of his length inside me made my breath catch in my throat and I clung to Arthur tightly, my fingertips pressing into his shoulders. He moved again, rocking into me slowly and steadily, breaking the kiss and meeting my eyes. 

"Sweetheart," he puffed, breathless and deep, "you okay?" He asked again. 

"Yes, I'm good. Better than good, keep going," I pleaded, cupping the back of his neck and skimming my fingers through the waves of his hair there. My other hand moved to his chest, thumb absentmindedly skimming over his nipple. 

"God, this feels incredible," he told me, voice strained. I hummed my agreement, caressing him and tilting my head, pressing my lips to the side of his face.

Arthur wrapped an arm beneath my lower back, lifting me up, tilting my hips, giving himself the perfect angle to bury himself over and over, getting quicker as we became lost in each other. My mouth kissed anywhere I could reach, my nose completely full of his scent and my ears blessed with the sound of his heavy breaths and pleasured groans. I felt like I could cry if I wasn't so absorbed in how good he was making me feel, his body grinding against my clit with every push of his hips. My heart fluttered in my rib-cage, making every pull of breath feel desperate; Arthur himself was about the only thing keeping me fixed on planet earth, it seemed like.

I loved him. That much was clear to me, I was completely in love with the man. 

"Arthur," I all but sobbed. He turned his head, putting our faces a hair's breadth apart. I pouted my lips for a couple of barely-there kisses, far too breathless for anything more than that.

"My gorgeous girl, this feel good?" He groaned, always eager to know how I was feeling. 

"So good, will you go faster?" I panted, and Arthur chuckled in response.

"Faster? Got you warmed up real quick, huh?" He teased, tilting his head and pecking my lips, nipping at my bottom one right after. He sped up his movements as I requested, clenching his jaw and grunting. "You feel amazing, princess."

"Yeah?" I whined, feeling an unexpected swell of pride that I could make him feel good with my body like this. 

"Yeah, fuck. My good girl," he praised and I moaned loudly, completely unable to hold back. "I'm so sorry, I don't reckon I can last very long."

"Don't apologise," I breathed, my body buzzing with intense arousal at his admission. 

"I won't finish inside you, I'll pull out," he assured me, not that I'd even considered that.

I wasn't so naive as to not understand why he'd pull out, but part of me felt like it was a shame. Wouldn't it be nice to share that with him? To stay connected while his pleasure peaked? My muscles clenched at the thought, and I found myself approaching my own orgasm surprisingly quickly. Feeling so full and having such intense pressure on my inner walls was such a new experience, one that I knew I'd be struggling not to crave often in future. I could only hope Arthur enjoyed this feeling as much as I did.

"I promise next time it won't be over so fast," he laughed breathily, his face betraying embarrassment behind his pleasure. He paused his hips for a moment, shifting to kneel as he kept hold of my waist, never breaking our connection. He lifted me upright so I was sat on his lap, and used his hands to guide me up and down. The new position made him feel deeper inside me and I cursed aloud at the surprising sensation. 

"Don't forget, I ain't got nothin' to compare this to. You don't have to be hard on yourself," I assured him, my voice somewhere between a moan and a laugh. He chuckled too.

"This is just gonna take some getting used to, feels so good. Fuck, so close–" he grunted, eyes squeezing shut in what looked like concentration. 

I snuck a hand between our bodies, feeling his stomach flex when I accidentally brushed against it, making him release a throaty groan. I rubbed my clit more firmly than his body alone could. I did so briskly, chasing my incoming orgasm, shuddering and tensing as I did, hearing more and more unrestrained sounds from him. 

Suddenly, Arthur rocked forwards, dropping me down onto my back, the momentum breaking the bond between our bodies. His hand wrapped around his erection – red and thick and shiny with wetness – and pumped it a number of times before he released, painting my lower belly and my busy arm with his seed. The sight of it was so arousing, so delightfully dirty, that I was soon joining him in the height of his pleasure; cumming at my own touch, the lingering sensation of him inside me making me throb and pulse more powerfully than ever before. My orgasm was so intense I couldn't keep my eyes open, they squeezed shut on their own and Arthur's name ripped from my throat just like mine had from his.

In the aftermath of our crests the room was thick with heavy breaths and the distinct hot, sticky sensation resulting from any physical labour, our flesh sticking and gripping one another's. My hand slowed and stopped between my legs, muscles going loose and malleable as Arthur held himself up with a pair of shaky arms above me. He lifted his head to meet my eyes, his cheeks flushed red and coated in a sheen of perspiration. It was so _stuffy_ this far East.

"I couldn't stop myself," he began to explain, almost apologetically. 

I simply shook my head and flashed him a dazed smile. 

"Let me take care of you," he added, then went to touch me. 

I blocked his hand, shaking my head again. "I came," I told him breathily and his eyes darkened lustfully. 

"You did," he murmured, not bothering to make it sound like a question, coming to lean over me and spread kisses up my neck. "Nothing to say you can't cum again," he said lewdly against my neck, tickling and making me giggle. His hand scooped under my backside, squeezing my cheek and surprising me. 

"Arthur," I said in a faux reprimand.

"What? I missed that last one. Didn't get to see your face," he purred, then his teeth grazed over my neck, the hot wet push of his tongue soon after, like he was ready to devour me like Nosferatu. I snickered and patted his shoulder, he lifted his head and smirked at me. I grabbed his face and pulled him down to kiss him, rough and heated, lots of tongue and he squeezed me against him, spreading the mess on my stomach between us; he didn't seem to care, though.

Arthur rolled us over, and it was nice to not worry about rolling off onto the floor for a change. I ended up straddling his hips, his softening manhood nestled between my legs, still feeling hot and sticky. I thought back to what he'd said earlier about men not being able to carry on right away, and wondered just how long we would have to wait…

"When can we do that all again?" I murmured against his lips, not letting him answer before continuing our kiss. He hummed a laugh behind my mouth, his hands roaming up and down my spine, gently tugging on the ends of my hair.

"You're thinking of that already?" He asked when I finally parted from him. I nodded and smiled. "Christ, woman," he laughed.

"Well, you shouldn't've been so good," I grinned.

"Oh, I was good?" He quirked a brow, just a glimmer of arrogance in his tone that caught me by surprise. I sat up, let my eyes wander over the wet smears on our stomachs. 

"A little messy, but…" I lifted one shoulder playfully at him and he glanced down too. He made a grunt of acknowledgement. 

"Mm, sorry about that," he sighed, looking sleepy now that he was laying back into the cushy pillows. 

"You falling asleep on me?" 

"With you, hopefully," the smile he gave was lopsided and sweet. I glanced around and when no other options came up, I reached back and grabbed the corner of the bed sheet and pulled on it, managing to reach us both with it to clean us up. 

Once we were clean, I climbed off of him, going to lay down beside him and rest on his shoulder. I chose his right shoulder, still nervous to touch his left one after his injury. Arthur wrapped his arms around me and we laid naked on top of the sheets, still too warm to crawl under them. I let out a contented breath as I got comfortable. 

"Thank you," I whispered, feeling him peck the top of my head. 

"I should be thanking you. I just hope this was at least a little special for you," he replied.

"It was. It was perfect."

"Well, it… it means a lot that you chose me to share this with," he murmured quietly, a certain shyness in his tone. I turned my head and kissed his shoulder. 

"Who on Earth else would I choose?" 

"I don't know, I just feel real happy right now, I thought you should know that." 

I felt my stomach give a funny squeeze, all pleasant and warm. 

"Me too," I whispered, wrapping my arm around his front and snuggling in tighter. "I know things ain't been easy lately, but thank you for coming out here with me."

"Ain't no need to thank me, sweetheart. I'm here for my sake as much as yours," he chuckled, "it's nice to get away from the gang sometimes. As much as I like 'em. I dare say I like you a damn sight more, 'specially after _that_."

"I won't tell no one," I snickered.

"Yeah, best not. Dutch still thinks he's my favourite," he murmured against the top of my head playfully. I laughed a little, but my mind rejected all thoughts of Dutch. I still had a bitter taste in my mouth after Arthur's capture, how he'd left it so long with seemingly no plans to do anything about it. 

"Tomorrow," I began thoughtfully, changing the subject, "we riding straight back to camp?"

"I ain't in no rush. Bet everyone'll be laying around feeling sorry for themselves after drinking all night," he shrugged. 

"Alright, well, I might step out for a little while in the morning. There's somethin' I wanna go and get in town. There's a little place I remember, wanna know if it's still there."

"Yeah? We can take a trip around the city if you want," he said, though he didn't sound enthralled with the idea.

"I remember you don't like cities, I was thinking I'd go alone. You can stay in bed, have a well-deserved lie-in, or take a bath. Bath girl optional," I teased.

"Bath girl," he muttered, "I'm starting to regret somethin' I don't even remember saying."

"I'm joking," I lifted my head and grinned at him. "But really, I'll go on my own. Only wanna nip out, pick up a little something for us."

"For us?" He raised a brow with intrigue.

"Yeah. Don't get too excited," I chuckled, "for now though, let's make the most of this double bed."

Arthur let out a dirty chuckle. "Still thinking like that? Well, shit, I might struggle to keep up with you."

"I meant to sleep in," I burst into giggles. 

"Oh," he hummed, and I could tell he was embarrassed. 

"Although…" I purred, flashing him a suggestive smile and running my nails through his chest hair. "How long did you say we'd have to wait?"


	33. Back Down To Earth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and reader return to camp after their wonderful night together, and quickly remember that the rest of their lives aren’t so peachy. Some tension and conflict in this one. Hope you enjoy!

Waking up without a tender ache in my hip was a very nice change, the soft bed giving me an appreciated restful night. Arthur was still sleeping when I opened my eyes to him; laying on his front, his head resting on his folded arms. I sat up and stretched, feeling oddly vulnerable in the light of day sat atop the bed completely nude. Of course, Arthur was just as naked as I was and I struggled to resist letting my eyes wander down his spine; all of those masculine ridges of muscle at his shoulders, the dips in his lower back above his backside, _his backside_ , looking soft and round and cute. I very nearly pinched myself, wondering how on earth I'd been lucky enough to end up with such an attractive man.

I turned onto my side, tucked a piece of his caramel coloured hair behind his ear; it'd gotten real long, stopping just above his shoulders, parted at the side and swept over, looking like some sort of prince. Goodness he was handsome. _How was he so handsome?_

I retracted my hand and moved away from him, stopping myself from gushing over him any more. Poor man deserved his undisturbed sleep. I decided I'd get up and have myself a bath, it'd been so long since I'd had a hot bath and I stayed in there for as long as I could. Even so, Arthur was still sleeping when I got back to the room to collect my things before heading out, just like I said I would the previous evening. I left him to sleep, figuring he deserved a lie in, and left him a note to remind him where I'd gone off to.

So I took a short trip into Saint Denis. I was curious about how the place had changed and had planned on having a wander around before carrying out my main objective, but stepping outside and walking up two streets had been more than enough exploring for my evolved tastes. I remembered when I was a youngster, trips to the city were exciting to me; the busy, modern, fast-paced atmosphere was something I didn't experience in any other place. I grew up in the swamp, in a small house with no neighbours for a good twenty minute walk in all directions, it was always so quiet and uneventful and as a child, boring. 

Growing into adulthood and losing my family, spending time alone wandering from place to place and mostly avoiding civilisation for the sake of my hunting success, had certainly changed the way I viewed the city. Just that short time outdoors during the day, with so many people passing by, acknowledging me only to size me up… well, I felt incredibly anxious. 

So, I headed straight for the place I wanted to visit, pleased that it still existed, and made a purchase I had not made in years. 

Letting myself back into the hotel room was a pleasant relief. By the time I had done what I needed to do, Arthur had woken up and appeared to have taken a bath himself; he was sat on the bed with a towel wrapped around his waist, a second in his hands scrubbing at his hair. 

"Morning," I greeted him, watching as he pulled the towel free from his head to look at me, his hair was sticking up all over the place and I couldn't help but smile at the sight of it. 

"You're back," he seemed pleased, "done what you needed to do?"

"I have," I grinned at him, coming to sit next to him on the bed with a cardboard box on my lap. "I trust you slept well, you were out like a log when I left."

"I sure did. Haven't slept so well in years," he smiled, standing up to gather his clothes. He tossed them on the bed when he turned back to me, dropping the towel around his waist unceremoniously. 

I felt myself flush and averted my eyes only after getting a good – though accidental – look at his naked body. I heard Arthur chuckle. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, I thought you wouldn't mind," he said, his voice a little teasing. 

"I certainly don't mind," I said, feeling warmth bloom in my belly, "but warn a lady next time, won't you?"

"I surely will, never meant to catch you by surprise, ma'am," he said, picking up his union suit and stepping into it. 

I allowed myself to look at him, my eyes immediately going to what was between his legs purely by accident, or perhaps it was curiosity, or human nature… whatever it was, Arthur didn't miss it and when I met his eyes he appeared amused, though with a healthy splash of colour in his cheeks. 

"You're a fine man, Arthur Morgan. You can't go 'round flaunting it all so suddenly, you'll make my head spin," I giggled, watching as he buttoned up the suit and covered himself up.

Arthur didn't seem to know how to respond to that, looking surprised. 

"You don't realise just how fine you are, do you?" I queried, tilting my head at him. He breathed a bashful laugh and pulled on his jeans and his shirt, tucking it in and pulling his suspenders up over his shoulders. "You always laugh like that when I compliment you," I noted.

"Do I? I guess I just ain't used to hearing that sort of thing from a lady such as yourself," he murmured, coming to sit back down on the bed next to me. "I don't know where it comes from, truth be told."

"Comes from looking at you," I twisted and wrapped my arms around his neck, scooting closer. "I'm a lucky girl, getting to be this close to a man like you. I reckon my mama'd say I've done mighty well for myself."

"You think so?" He snorted, not seeming to believe me but putting his hands on my waist anyway. I brought one hand to cup his cheek, my thumb drawing down and across the bottom of his mouth, tracing under his lips. 

I leaned in and pecked his lips, they were so soft and plush under mine I could've done it again right away, but I held back. Instead I kissed his cheek, then his jaw, slowly, tenderly.

"It's no secret I always thought you were easy on the eyes," I whispered to him. 

"It's no secret I've always been confused about it," he said and the corner of his mouth lifted; I kissed it. "After all, look at you."

I pulled back minutely.

"You're an incredibly beautiful woman, I don't even have the words for it," he said to me, his voice all low and silky in my ears. I pulled back a little more to look into his eyes. 

"Goodness, Arthur," I breathed a quiet laugh, "you're making me blush."

"Was that too silly? Sometimes I worry things'll sound silly coming from me."

"No!" I grinned, kissing him again then pulling him in tight for a close hug. "God, last night was perfect. Everything is perfect with you. You make me a very happy girl."

"Well, if I can make you happy, that matters a whole lot to me."

I gave him a final quick peck on the lips, then pulled away and presented the cardboard box I had in my lap to him. 

"For you. Or, us," I shrugged.

Arthur looked down at the box with interest, it was a plain white thing, not very big, and when he lifted the lid, he chuckled. 

"A little treat. I went to the confectioner's. Pa used to take me and my brother there every time we visited the city and he'd treat us to a cake. We'd share one between the three of us, but I figured I'd buy us one each today, since I'm in such a good mood," I smirked at him. 

Inside the box there were a pair of individual little sponge cakes, layered with strawberry preserve and thick servings of cream, lots of powdered sugar and a pretty spiral of sliced strawberries on top. The things were a few inches tall, the cake to filling ratio being at least fifty-fifty. It was the same cake I had as a kid, and I remembered carving a small spot in heaven every time I sat down to eat my helping. I would close my eyes and take the tiniest of bites, making it last, savouring, licking my fingers and plucking the crumbs off my skirt to eat them as to not let a single piece go to waste. Though, I hadn't eaten anything like it in years. 

"This is… you know, about all I've eaten for as long as I can remember is meat and canned vegetables, and whatever Pearson puts in his stew. Sweet stuff like this just doesn't come my way. Angel, this is one hell of a treat," his smile was wide, and it was such a pure, untroubled smile that it touched my heart.

"Well then, eat up. Nothing like cake for breakfast, huh?" 

Arthur and I moved on the bed, scooting back and turning to sit facing each other, cross-legged, with the box between us. We each took a cake and wasted no time in tucking in, both of us letting out appreciative hums at the first bite. The cake was so fluffy and moist, sweet and decadent and every bit as delicious as I remembered from my childhood. Cream squeezed out and coated my tongue and Arthur caught some of his own in his palm before it dropped down the front of his shirt. They were messy to eat but I'd argue it only added to the experience. 

"Christ, that's good," Arthur groaned with his mouth full, then licked away the cream on his hand. I giggled, nodding in agreement.

The sound of chewing filled the space between us, along with the odd noise from the street outside; horses hoof beats, chatter, the bump of wagon wheels over cobblestones. Arthur and I were quiet, though. Nothing like tasty food to shut people up.

About half way through the cake I quickly began to wonder if it was such a good idea to eat a whole one to myself, it was becoming very sickly. That didn't mean I stopped eating, though, it was far too good and the treat was far too rare for me to want to let any of it go to waste. So I pushed through and stuffed my face, licking up the cream that had escaped onto my fingers and my lips. I had to admit to feeling a little sick after the whole thing, but it was worth it, I'd say. 

"What're we doing today, going back?" I asked and Arthur turned his nose up a little before composing himself. 

"Do you want to?"

"Do you?" I countered and Arthur let out a small sigh.

"No, I don't reckon I do," he said quietly. 

"Well, I'd be happy to stay away for as long as you want, but…" I began, looking down, "ain't you worried what folks will think if we stay away too long?"

"Not really, wouldn't be the first time I've spent a few days away from camp without announcing it to everyone."

"Yeah but, it ain't just you this time."

Arthur was quiet for a few moments. "You worried about what people'll think we're up to?"

"No, though I assume they'd think we're doing exactly what we did last night, whether it was the case or not. I'm more worried about Dutch thinking I'm–" I stopped, second guessing whether it was a good idea to speak my mind on the matter.

"Dutch? What you worrying about Dutch for?" He frowned lightly, concerned. I kept my eyes focused on an embroidered tulip on the bed sheet as I thought.

"Maybe it don't matter."

"No, it does. Has he said something to you?" His hand reached out to cup mine.

"Jus' something I overheard when you was with the O'Driscolls. I don't know what he meant, really," I shrugged. 

"Talk to me."

"Well, when they came back without you, and Micah said he didn't know where you were, I panicked. I was askin' Dutch what he was gonna do, and he weren't being all that helpful with his answers– he was pissed off, understandably so. I reckon he was worried about you, but he was talking about not doing what Colm expected–" I shook my head and stole a look up at Arthur, his eyes were dead set on me but unreadable. 

"Anyway, he wanted rid of me, and Hosea, bless him, took me away and calmed me down. But as I left, Micah told Dutch I had a crush on you," a small laugh escaped me at that, "and Dutch goes; _that's all we need_ , or something like that. He didn't sound happy about it."

Arthur stayed quiet for a moment longer and I felt compelled to carry on.

"Then he kinda brushed me off when you got back, I don't reckon he knows about us. At least not the full extent. And I guess I've just been worried that he and some of the others might think I'm distracting you or taking you away from the gang," I admitted.

I met Arthur's eyes, both of us remaining quiet for a few seconds before Arthur seemed to snap out of a stupor and he cleared his throat.

"Well, you ain't distracting me, not from what needs doing. I've been doin' all I'm supposed to, so nobody can moan at me for that," he muttered.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off," I began, sensing a tension in him that I didn't like.

"No, you haven't. You did the right thing, telling me what you're worried about. I assure you, though, you ain't taking me away from nothing. And if anyone gives you trouble, you let me know," he said, his voice deep and intense, sending goosebumps rising on my arms.

"I will," I nodded. 

"And I ain't going back now to keep them lot happy, they can live without me for one night and one day. We can have today and go back this evening, if you want."

"I'd like that," I smiled at him.

"The gang," he started, pressing his lips together in thought before continuing, "they're like my family. But lately, certain things have reminded me that while that may be true, they ain't all that matters."

"Yeah?"

"Listen, I can see Dutch has doubted you from day one. At first I could understand; you were new, everyone's cautious around the new person. But the thing is, you've been here long enough now, shown enough loyalty, done enough for us, for him to start treating you like one of us. God knows he was pattin' Micah on the head sooner than this," he spoke monotonously, a little harshly. He was definitely pissed off.

"I don't mind. Truth be told I don't care all that much for the man," I exhaled in a hollow laugh, unable to let go of his inaction when Arthur was in trouble, his reasons be damned.

"Yeah well, I care for you a whole lot," he said firmly, "and if Dutch, the man I'm supposed to blindly follow, makes you feel like you ain't on the same level as the rest of us, then I _do_ mind."

I stared at him, eyes wide. Arthur cupped my cheek and pulled me in for a harsh, fiery kiss.

"I tell you one thing, I ain't keeping this a secret from nobody no more. You're important to me, and Dutch and everyone else is gonna know about it," he murmured against my mouth before kissing me again, barely giving me a moment to catch my breath, pushing me down onto the bed and blanketing my body with his. My head spun and I opened up for him, letting him smother me in his need and affection. 

We made love again, not emerging from our room until hours later, both of us finding it incredibly difficult to pull ourselves away from one another. I was completely, undeniably infatuated with him.

-

We rode back to camp after sundown, Sadie was on guard duty and she smirked at us when we arrived, though didn't say anything other than a polite greeting. We dismounted from Jet and I took the chance to give Rayna some love before Arthur and I walked into the main camp. It looked like people were finishing up with dinner as Susan was washing some dishes and everyone else was lazing about the place, the atmosphere felt flat in comparison to the previous night when everyone had been partying. It seemed the novelty of the house also wore off pretty quick considering most people were sitting outside.

Arthur and I helped ourselves to the last of Pearson's stew and took seats at the table. Susan had her eyes on us from the moment we arrived and it wasn't long before she said something. 

"You pair can wash your own dishes, considering you both got out of helping with the clean up," she said snarkily. 

"What clean up?" Arthur asked.

"From the party, of course," she chuckled. She didn't seem all that annoyed, thankfully. 

"Oh, well neither of us made the mess, in all fairness," Arthur said.

"Oh, so you snuck out last night, not this morning?"

I wasn't going to say anything, but Arthur did.

"Yeah," he said, "though I wouldn't call it sneaking out. Charles knew where we was going."

"And where was that?" Susan asked.

"Saint Denis," Dutch strolled over from his spot by the fire, eyes focused on Arthur, "don't worry, son, Charles told me where you were just as soon as I started worrying you'd wandered off with the O'Driscolls again."

"You were worried about that?" Arthur asked, voice rising in pitch. "Come on, Dutch, I leave camp all the time."

"Truth be told I don't know what riled me more, thinking you'd been taken by those bastards again, or knowing you'd waltzed right back into Saint Denis not ten minutes after being searched for by the law," Dutch's overly pleasant tone made me nauseous.

"John and I got away without being seen, they didn't know it was us. 'Sides, we went nowhere near that cemetery, didn't even stay on the streets long," Arthur muttered. I cocked a brow; cemetery?

"So where did you go, son?"

"Ain't that obvious?" Arthur said. I felt Dutch look at me, and kept on eating my stew to distract myself from my growing anxiety. "You're thinkin' it, don't make me say it."

Dutch hummed to himself, his eyes still on me. "Just, think with your brain, Arthur. We don't need any complications," he said, patting his shoulder once before sauntering off.

I met Arthur's eyes and his were apologetic. I didn't say anything for quite some time and after a stretch of silence, Arthur dropped his fork and stood up. 

"I'm gonna explain to him–" he began, but I grabbed his wrist. 

"Explain what?" I hissed. 

Arthur looked at me in surprise. "That it was my suggestion to go to Saint Denis and it ain't nobody's business if we were there or not, anyway."

"Oh, just leave it. He's dropped it, be thankful," I shrugged. 

"He's got no reason to be mad about it, if I wanna go to Saint Denis I'll go to Saint Denis," his voice raised, both in pitch and volume, the way it did when he was irritated, I was quickly understanding. "Never cared all that much before when I disappeared, so I understand."

Oh. 

I stared at him for a moment, thinking back to the O'Driscolls. I never stopped to think whether Arthur actually felt anything about the way Dutch handled that; I knew that it pissed me off to no end but Arthur had always been so understanding and accepting of these things when it came to Dutch. Though, I hadn't exactly helped the situation by relaying what had happened that night to him.

"Arthur, it might just be in our best interests to let it go," I said quietly, sensing stares from around the campfire. One glance there had me catching Charles' eyes. "Eat your dinner, you ain't had a proper meal today."

Arthur's eyes dropped to his food and after a moment, he slumped back down in his chair heavily. We finished our food in silence and when I went to gather our plates to wash them, Arthur got up and told me he was going to get an early night. It broke my heart, watching him walk away towards the house without me, left on such a sullen note. I had no idea where things had gone wrong, I wished that Dutch had left us alone, that Arthur hadn't taken what he'd said to heart. 

We'd had such a beautiful time together away from camp. Why did it have to come crashing down as soon as we returned? 

Charles silently sidled up to me when I was washing the dishes to help me dry them. He didn't say anything at first, but eventually, he spoke in a low, even tone that was difficult for even me to hear, let alone anyone else around us. 

"I can't help but feel responsible for that," he told me, "I'm sorry. I felt I had to tell Dutch when he started looking for Arthur this morning."

"God, Charles, no. Don't feel responsible, you ain't. Whole reason we told you was so people wouldn't get worried if they realised we were gone. It's okay," I reassured him, "if anything, I'm sorry. We put that on your shoulders. Of course, didn't really anticipate this turning into a drama."

"Me neither."

"Don't worry about it. I think I said something above my station today, soured Arthur's mood a bit."

"You two have an argument?"

"No, we didn't argue," far from it, I thought. "I don't think Dutch likes me very much."

"Why not?"

"Well, I'm stopping Arthur from being capable of using his brain, apparently," I snorted.

"Arthur isn't dumb."

"I know he ain't. Doesn't stop Dutch from treating him like he is, you saw what happened just then. Worst part is, I can't tell who Arthur's mad at; him or me," I turned to Charles, wiping my hands on my skirt and leaning my hip against the table.

"Only one way to find out," he shrugged, gesturing with his head towards the house. 

-

I entered Arthur's room, poking my head around the corner first to see if he was asleep. The lantern was still lit and he was sat up on his bed, writing in his journal. He looked at me and waved me in, and I crossed the room and sat down on a storage crate. 

"Sorry for leaving you like that," he spoke first, surprisingly, "needed to get my thoughts in order."

"That's alright," I nodded. Arthur sighed loudly and snapped his journal shut, putting it away in his satchel before looking at me head on. 

"I didn't mean what I said about Dutch not caring about me going missing. That was dumb of me, I know full well him coming after me would've been a bad idea. Heat of the moment, and all," he shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't more important than the rest of those folks out there."

"Well, if it's any consolation you only said how I've been feeling about it. Maybe I'm just selfish because of my feelings for you, but I weren't happy with Dutch over that," I admitted quietly, squeezing my hands together in my lap.

"Don't let it bother you, he did the right thing."

I shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing.

"He ain't been making all the right decisions lately, but that one needn't come into it. All that shit with the Braithwaites and the Grays, though…" he shook his head and laughed drily. "What a mess. None o' that felt right to me from the start."

"I know," I nodded.

"And now look at us, camping right outside of Saint Denis, closest we've ever been to civilisation. I don't know why we aren't heading west already, taking our chances getting by Blackwater, only so we can get back to more open lands, regain a little freedom. But what do I know? That's probably a bad idea, too."

"This life is relatively new to me, I've never had to run from the law. I couldn't tell you what that idea was, good nor bad. You having freedom, though, is all I want," I sighed, staring sadly at him. I hated seeing him this way; so sullen and conflicted.

"It seems like we're just getting involved with more and more bullshit. You know, Dutch wants us to go to a party at the _mayor's_ house. We've moved up from working with sheriffs to schmoozing with high society, when we're wanted all over the damn place. It's like he's forgotten how to do subtlety," he narrowed his eyes, shaking his head incredulously. He was speaking very quietly, now.

My brows raised and I tried to imagine Arthur and Dutch rubbing shoulders with the likes of Saint Denis' mayor. "I see why that puzzles you," I laughed humorlessly. 

"I know that we need money. I know that we need to look for leads. I know that I should trust Dutch 'cause he knows what he's doing. But… I just don't like this shit. But I ain't got the ideas myself to counter with, so what's the point?" Arthur sighed heavily, gnawed on his lip for a moment and I waited for him to continue, it looked like there was more to come and I wanted him to get it off his chest.

"I've always just followed Dutch. Been with him since I was a boy, everything I know he's taught me. In a way he made things easy for me, I always knew what to do cause he always told me what to do, I never questioned it. But now I find myself questioning and I– what do I do?" He looked up at me, and my heart thudded at being put on the spot.

"You've never had to think for yourself before?" I wondered, hastily adding, "no offense."

"None taken. You hit the nail on the head," he shook his head.

"Well, what changed?"

"I don't know. Things feel different, with the gang I mean, we've gotten sloppy. Maybe Dutch is just feeling the heat, or maybe it's Micah; things were fine till he joined. I don't know. I just don't know. Running off to Saint Denis with you was the clearest my head has felt in weeks, I thought I was just permanently messed up by my run in with the O'Driscolls, but no. Turns out it's being here, I don't know what to think no more."

"You ain't upset with me, then?"

"You? Why would I be? All you've done lately is make me happy," he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and leaned towards me, taking my hand in both of his.

"I don't want to drive a wedge between you and Dutch."

"You ain't," he shook his head.

"I've never had much, but these last couple of months I've spent with you, they… it's like nothing I've ever known before. Happiness comes easy when I'm with you," I mumbled, feeling embarrassed by the words leaving my mouth, but wanting to be honest with him. "I just wish that things were simpler."

"Me too, princess. All I can hope for is one day being able to give you somethin' better than this. And maybe it's a little selfish too, Lord knows I'm happiest when I'm with you," he admitted, and it touched me.

"Don't you worry about Dutch. And don't feel responsible for the way he acts, things ain't been going too well for a while now. You know about Blackwater, Hosea; he tried to warn Dutch that it weren't a good idea to do that job, but he never listened. Listened to Micah instead," he grumbled out the last few words, "I guess I'm just in a weird place right now, I need– I don't know what I need."

"Arthur, you know I want to support you no matter what. I care about this gang, and I'll do all I can to help these folk and I'll always pull my weight. But my loyalty lies mostly with one person, and it ain't Dutch. Just know that," I gave him a direct look. Arthur nodded his head slowly.

"I guess I'll… let's see what this party is all about at the mayor's place, see what Dutch pulls outta his sleeve. I'll tell you one thing, though; I am not looking forward to it," he huffed, shaking his head then pulling his hands away to run them through his hair. "I won't lie, my stomach twists itself in knots just thinking about it."

"What if I asked Dutch if I could come, too?" I suggested on a whim, and Arthur looked up at me in surprise, "it's to look for leads, right? All those rich people there. Dutch knows acting is my forte, I could fit right in at a fancy soiree."

"You'd fit in a damn sight better than me," he laughed. 

"I'll ask. Worst he can say is no, but maybe he'll see it as me making myself useful and like me a little more," I smirked, "that's if me being there'd give you a little moral support, and you fellers don't plan on shooting the place up. 'Cause then, no promises I'll be any use at all."

"Somehow I don't think we have to worry about that," he smiled, then moved to lay back down on his bed, "but I reckon having you there might be nice."

"Yeah? Alright then," I rose to my feet.

"Get Hosea on your side, first. He's the voice of reason, when Dutch'll listen," he advised. 

"Will do. I'll leave you to get some sleep," I approached him and bent down to kiss him. Our lips lingered for a few moments, dancing together and leaving us breathless when we finally parted. "Goodnight," I whispered.

"Goodnight, my darlin'."


	34. The Gilded Cage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re off to a party at the mayor’s house! I hope you like this one, guys :)

I regretted my decision to sit by the fire almost instantly. I'd made some oatmeal for breakfast and had wandered over, thinking the area was void of people; awake ones, anyway, Javier and Lenny were curled up asleep under the shelter opposite the log I'd chosen. I'd already committed to sitting there when I realised that Micah was there too, lounging under the shelter next to it, I hadn't registered him due to his stillness and silence, but when he moved to pull a drag from the cigarette he was smoking, I saw him. He was watching me, his face neutral, though erring towards a glare if I focused on the slight narrowing of his eyes and the way he did not look away when my eyes met his. 

"Morning, Micah," I said curtly.

Micah didn't answer, continuing to stare and smoke across the fire. His silence drew on, the crackle of the fire and Javier's quiet, occasional snore my only answer. My gut churned and I tried to focus on my breakfast, forcing it down, knowing my sudden loss of appetite didn't mean I wasn't hungry.

"I'd appreciate it if we could be civil," I said quietly, then took a mouthful of oatmeal. 

Micah scoffed. "Is a man not allowed to sit quietly and enjoy the morning peace without being accused of not being civil?"

"Sorry," I shook my head, not looking at him. 

He went quiet again, but after a while, he sighed. "Just so you know, I ain't _sad_. I ain't over here wallowing, feeling sorry for myself over you."

"I didn't think you were."

"You really ain't that special after all," he shrugged and I smiled to myself, thinking back to our conversation at the Parlour House where he'd said the exact opposite. I wasn't surprised he'd been saying it to butter me up.

"I know."

"Morgan's welcome to you," he muttered, flicking his cigarette away and standing up, strolling past me, "enjoy your breakfast," he added snidely. 

I looked up at him and watched his back as he left, his hand hooked on his belt, his gait slow and self assured. Conflict was not something that I enjoyed, but I found myself getting irritated by that stroll of his. I sighed and shook my head.

Footsteps approached from behind, and I looked up in time to see Arthur stepping over the log before sitting down beside me. He was carrying a letter in his hand, his eyes cast down towards it, a slight frown marring his brow. He didn't say anything in greeting. 

"Hello," I said curiously, and there was a pause before he responded distractedly. 

"Hey," he said, then after a moment he looked up at me, then handed me the letter.

"What's this?" I questioned, looking down to the bottom of the page where the letter was signed off. Mary.

"Mary's contacted me again. She's in the city, apparently, wants to see me again," he told me. 

I quickly skim read her letter, wincing at the words on the page, wondering why on Earth Arthur had given it to me. It was full of hopeless pleading, speaking of change and how Arthur could not seem to do it, how he could not be a man. She wanted his help again, it appeared, she begged. I handed it back to him when I was done, finished off the last of my oatmeal, all the while feeling Arthur's expectant eyes on me. 

"Well, she sounds like she's in a tricky situation of some sort. You gonna help her?" I asked, finally looking at him. He stared blankly for a moment.

"I don't know, I was sort of hoping you'd tell me what you thought I should do," he laughed a little. I raised a brow, unsure how to respond to that.

"Mary is _your_ … friend. I can't tell you how to deal with her. I know last night you said you ain't had to do much thinking for yourself, Arthur, but this is one of those times you're gonna need to practice," I chuckled.

"I can't just go back to her, can I? Not when I'm with you. That wouldn't be fair. I ain't thought of her in ages, darlin', and I'm gonna get tired real quick if she's gonna keep seeking me out whenever she needs someone to do her dirty work," he grumbled, shaking his head and smacking the letter with the back of his hand in distaste. 

"Then don't go," I shrugged. His face contorted, my answer obviously not sitting right with him either.

"That's what I should do, ain't it?" He murmured, mostly to himself. He stared down at the letter, rubbing the dip below his bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. 

I watched him for a moment, then took a breath. "I won't be mad if you want to see her."

"I don't want to see her," he was quick to correct me, "but that don't mean I feel content with tossin' this letter and ignoring her. That wouldn't be right."

"Then go!" I laughed, though it wasn't full of humour. "Arthur, it's up to you. I can understand your decision either way, she ain't exactly making things easy for you."

"I'll go. I'll go and you'll come with me, you can meet her and we'll tell her about us. Like I said last time, maybe if she sees I've moved on she might feel contacting me asking for help all the time is inappropriate," he said. 

My lips parted, my heart thumping uncomfortably in my chest, eyes widening. Arthur didn't notice.

"I told her last time I couldn't drop everything for her and she needed to look elsewhere if she wanted an errand boy, that didn't sink in, clearly. So I guess it's come to this," he continued shaking his head, "she don't seem to understand that she puts me in a difficult position when she sends me letters like this, it pulls me right back to when she and I– it just don't feel good."

I dropped my focus to the glowing cracks in the wood of the campfire, trying to settle my anxiety, taking slow, quiet breaths. I saw Arthur look towards me from the corner of my eye, then heard him sigh.

"And it ain't fair on you," he added, then tossed the letter into the flames right in front of me, making me jump. 

For some reason I flinched, almost going to grab the letter out of instinct as if it had been an accident, but I caught myself. I turned my wide eyes to him.

"I'm sorry, angel," he whispered, "I'm not going. I shouldn't even think twice about it when I've got you I should be focusing all my attention on."

"Arthur, you don't have to be like this for me," I shook my head and he reached for my hand, cupping it between both of his, stroking the back of it with his palm, "she was your fiancé," I added.

"You knew about that?" He frowned, then shook his head dismissively. "Yeah, she was. Until she decided to call the whole thing off and marry some other feller, spitting on everything she and I had together." 

"I'm sorry," I breathed. 

"Well," he sighed, looking guilty, "it was a little more complicated than that. I weren't being totally fair, neither of us were innocent, we hurt each other. Anyway, I'm trying to move forward and build something with you, I refuse to let her make me keep one foot in the past, Lord knows I did that for too long." 

"If you're sure," I said, though I felt a little guilty being the reason he wanted to ignore her letter. It was Arthur's decision, though, however he made it.

"I'm completely sure," he lifted one hand to my cheek, stroking his thumb across the top of my cheekbone. He moved in to kiss me once. "I miss that hotel room already. Things were nice there, just me and you," he whispered when our lips parted, only for him to kiss me again right after.

Arthur tilted his head, deepening the kiss. All of my guilt and worry ebbed away, my heart rate slowed to a pace that was only elevated because of excitement, not anxiety, it thrummed more pleasantly in my chest, fluttering like the butterflies in my stomach. It was just Arthur and I, like nobody else existed for those moments. It didn't occur to me once where we were, until I heard a laugh. 

Arthur and I immediately broke away from each other and looked towards the noise; Javier was in the process of sitting up, just woken up, looking between us. 

"Don't let me disturb you," he teased, smirking, then got up and left us to grab himself some coffee. Regardless, Arthur and I put a little distance between us. Just because we weren't worried about keeping our relationship quiet anymore, it didn't mean we were going to start ramming it down everyone's throats. 

"Did you speak to Hosea and Dutch about the mayor's party?" Arthur asked after a short stretch of quiet. 

"Oh, yeah, well I spoke to Hosea. He said he'd ask Dutch, but he thought it was a good idea; said we'd look a little more upstanding if we had a lady in the group," I grinned, and Arthur chuckled.

-

Dutch took some convincing – mainly the work of Hosea – but eventually he came around to the idea of having me attend the party. There were conditions, however, we were there to work, to find leads, not simply to get a taste of high society life. He said it to me as if I was interested in that sort of thing, I told him not to worry, I'd already been working on my persona and a plan to seek out something worthwhile. He also warned me not to distract any of the other men while they were looking for their own leads, and that one almost made me roll my eyes. What did he take me for? 

So, all of us – Dutch, Hosea, Bill, Arthur and I – headed to Saint Denis to get ourselves cleaned up for the party. We went to the tailor's and each bought a new outfit for the occasion; I ended up in a ball gown the likes of which I'd never worn in my life. It was a salmon pink off-the-shoulder thing with a gathered, satin, wrap-around style bodice and wide skirt with more gathers at the front, the fabric lifted to reveal a layer of lighter pink satin underneath trimmed with lace. The dress was adorned with ribbons and bows and a ruffle on the bust that made me look more endowed than I really was, helped along by the corset that went with it that did an excellent job of pushing my breasts up till I could practically rest my chin on them.

Heading back to camp before the party saw me surrounded by the girls, Miss Grimshaw and Mary-Beth worked together to do my hair while the others (excluding Sadie, who was decidedly not interested in the ball and Molly, who was decidedly bitter that Dutch hadn't asked her to come) spoke excitedly about what a ball at the mayor's house might be like. I was nervous by the time I was ready and the sun was on its way down, and we were all piled into a stagecoach together on our way. 

I was crammed in between Bill and Hosea, sat opposite Arthur and Dutch. Hosea was talking about how he used to attend balls quite often, and I was surprised until he revealed it was more about pick-pocketing than anything else. We all shared a laugh. 

"Remember, we're here to make contacts. So, no pick-pocketing, no cons," Dutch began, looking to me before continuing, "well, loosely speaking. You see an opportunity to set something up, go ahead, but the point is we don't wanna attract any attention just yet."

"What sort of contacts we trying to make here?" Arthur questioned, shaking his head and seeming amused by the whole thing. 

"I guess we'll find out when we get inside," Dutch laughed, "we're heading into a party at the mayor's house where the guest of honour is the worst crook in town. Rest assured, Arthur, we're bound to find something."

I laughed, looking down at my hands, twisting a ring around that Tilly had lent to me for the occasion, taking a breath to calm my nerves.

"When we get there, Arthur and I will go in and reacquaint ourselves with Bronte, you fellers, go find somewhere quiet and we'll meet you out there. And you, my dear," Dutch continued, and I looked up when he addressed me, "you head into the party and start mingling. Use your womanly charm to get us some information about something we might be able to steal, some poor feller worth robbing, anything."

"Womanly charm," Arthur chuckled, but it seemed a little tense, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"It means a feller's more likely to trust an attractive young lady – or better yet, try to impress her – with some information about how well he's doing for himself, than he is a mean lookin' tough guy such as yourself," Dutch explained in a low voice, "and that is information we might be able to _use_."

I felt my face heat up at the way Dutch referred to me as _an attractive young lady_ , especially when all the men in the coach turned to look at me at that moment precisely. Arthur's eyes stayed on me long after the others turned away.

"It's a fair point," Bill said. Arthur shrugged then looked back at Dutch.

"Fair enough. Now what am I doing?" Arthur asked.

"We'll figure that out once we get inside, we're here."

We arrived outside of the house, a beautiful place lit up and alive with the sound of music drifting onto the streets from what sounded like the garden around the back. We all climbed out of the stagecoach, and Bill awkwardly offered a hand to help me down after scrubbing it against his trouser leg, since he was the one who climbed out before me. I took it and thanked him, and he was quick to let go as soon as I was down safely, acting like it never happened. I chuckled to myself, and came to walk beside Arthur who was waiting for me. 

"You ready for this?" He uttered to me under his breath. A smile lifted my lips and I gave him a look of reassurance.

"Ready or not, we're heading in. We'll be fine," I told him, looking him up and down in his suit. 

Christ almighty, Arthur in a suit, now that was a sight I could get used to. He looked incredibly handsome, his hair slicked back with pomade, his beard freshly trimmed to a short, neat stubble. 

"You certainly scrub up well," I purred, and Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly distracted by one of the gentlemen standing at the front gate, greeting people. 

"I'm afraid the mayor doesn't allow guns at official functions after last year's incident," he was saying. Hosea and Dutch handed over their holstered weapons, and Arthur turned to do the same. 

My heart stopped and I glanced around nervously, wondering if I could get away with it or if it was worth the risk of keeping quiet. One of the gentlemen looked at me, raising a brow as he noticed my nervousness, and with an awkward cough I turned away from the group. I could feel their eyes on me as I – as discreetly as I could – lifted the hem of my skirt, gathered up my petticoats, and reached underneath to retrieve the revolver I had strapped to my thigh. I sheepishly handed it over, gaining a number of surprised looks.

"Well, a lady needs to be able to protect herself, don't you think?" I chuckled tensely, and eventually they all shrugged it off. 

"I suppose that's rather sensible," someone said. 

With that, we were ushered into the house. I fell into step beside Arthur, who was looking at me with an amused smile and lidded eyes. I flushed and chose not to say anything, feeling his hand go to the small of my back as we climbed the steps to the house. 

Hosea, Bill and I broke off from Arthur and Dutch when they went to meet Signor Bronte. Arthur had explained before we left that he was the one who'd invited us here, and he just about ran part of the city. He was also the one who was holding Jack, but Dutch had sucked up to him enough that that wasn't a problem… apparently. I personally found it very odd, but it wasn't my place to say anything.

I headed into the party just as Dutch had instructed. I stepped out of the back door onto the veranda that looked out across the garden. I took a moment to familiarise myself with the place; there were people everywhere, all lavishly dressed of course. There was a gazebo with a band playing right in the middle of it all, a huge fountain further up ahead. The garden was split up with raised planters bursting with exotic looking foliage and flowers, between which were various paved areas where the guests converged, all around buffets and candle lit tables. Lights were strung up above, bathing the place in a low glow, bright enough so you could make your way around but dark enough to maintain a strangely intimate atmosphere.

I hadn't been to any balls before, but I had to say, the place looked impressive even to me. 

I descended one of the sweeping staircases that curled around into the heart of the party, immediately being offered a glass of champagne by a gentleman holding a tray full of glasses. I gratefully took one, having a sip, my very first taste of champagne. I had to say, I wasn't all that impressed, though I drank it anyway to calm my nerves and give me a little more confidence. 

Glancing around the place, I honestly didn't know where to start. Looking for leads; I knew my objective but once I was faced with the prospect of carrying it out, I almost regretted coming. Luckily, I needn't pluck up the courage to make the first move to anyone because a man approached me, casually sliding in beside me, nibbling on an hors d'oeuvre of some description. 

"Good evening," he greeted me after finishing off the last bite. He was a tall, skinny man with a gaunt face and deep set eyes. Very pale skin dotted with freckles and bright orange hair slicked into a graceful sweep across his forehead. He was wearing a suit not dissimilar to the one Dutch was wearing… or any of the other men for that matter. There really was only so many ways to wear a suit, it seemed, rather boring compared to the variety in the women's gowns. There were some show-stoppers, for sure.

"Hello there," I replied, turning to face him. 

"Pleasure, the name's Michael," he offered his hand to me and met it with my own, he gave my fingers a gentle squeeze.

"Jemima," I told him. 

"Jemima," he repeated with a nod, "what a God-awful farce this is, don't you agree?"

"Oh, I'm afraid I just arrived. I haven't quite been here long enough to draw any conclusions," I laughed. 

"Darn, I was hoping I'd find someone to stand and complain with. You know, I'm only here because my social climber wife was invited. Yes, she's rather friendly with that man who makes the ugly hats, what's-his-name," he looked to me for an answer and I could do no more than stare blankly at him, "Wasp. What an awful name."

"Never met the feller," I shrugged, clearing my throat and scanning the place for an excuse to escape.

"Well I assure you he practically owes his living to me, with the number of hats my wife owns. You'd think she wanted to open up her own shop. And the size of some of them, I'll have to buy a second home just to keep the damn things," he tutted, shaking his head. "Anyway, she fits right in here, but I just can't stand these sorts of things."

"I suppose it's not for everyone," I mused.

"Right, she was stood talking to that man over there for twenty minutes when I left her to it. Some nonsense about art, he's a dealer or something, was trying to sell her some crap from Italy that I'll end up paying for, no doubt," he grumbled, gesturing to a gentleman now standing alone, picking at the buffet. 

I watched him for a moment, thinking. 

"That woman'll be my ruin, I'm sure of it, bleed me dry," Michael said under his breath, and I looked at him with raised brows. He caught my eye and sighed, "sorry, I've been hitting the champagne hard since we got here, I've said enough. I'll leave you to it. Have a pleasant evening," he said monotonously, then skulked off.

I noticed Arthur pouring champagne for a group of ladies nearby and smiled, then wandered over there. He grinned when he saw me, and topped up my glass. 

"Thank you, sir," I said, and he shook his head in amusement. 

"What did Dutch say about distracting the fellers?" He teased me. 

"I'm distracting you? Why I'm just saying hello," I nudged him, sipping my drink. "How is Mr. Bronte?"

"He's…" he began, trailing off as he struggled to sum the man up, "well, I'm just glad you haven't had to meet him."

"Oh, that bad?"

He made a humming sound. "Who was your new friend?" He gestured in the vague direction of Michael. I laughed and shook my head.

"An unhappily married complainer, was about my take away from the conversation," I told him, "but, he gave me an idea, so it wasn't all bad." 

"Yeah?" He looked at me, intrigued.

"Yeah," I smiled, "what about you?"

"Well, I need to speak to the mayor," he said, nodding over towards the fountain where a group of men were standing, one of them must've been him, though I couldn't tell you which one. 

"Oh! I'll leave you to it, then," I rubbed his upper arm, pausing to feel the muscle there when it captured my attention, before turning to leave. Arthur caught my arm before I could walk away. 

"You look incredible. Just thought I should tell you that," he said under his breath.

A smile burst across my face, "thank you, sweetheart." 

Arthur smiled at the nickname, sliding his hand down to squeeze mine, his eyes turning soft and warm and lovely. Before I could get carried away, he let me go, and we each went our separate ways so we could get on with our jobs. I walked towards the man Michael had pointed out to me as an art dealer, flashing him a little smile and waiting for him to smile back before committing and closing the distance.

"Hi, lovely to meet you, Jemima Jones," I introduced myself, offering my hand and having him shake it. 

"Leighton Pleasants," he said in an English accent, then glanced down at my attire, "what a lovely dress."

"Oh, thank you. It's brand new for the occasion, I couldn't resist spending a little money once I knew I'd be coming to the mayor's house," I giggled, and Leighton's smile widened, "speaking of, I heard you are a collector of artwork, or something along those lines?"

"Ah, yes, something like that. I have rather an impressive collection if I do say so, though a lot of the buying I do is for the purpose of passing it along to those who will treasure it. Do you have an interest in art?"

"I suppose you could say that. I enjoy filling my home with work that the guests can enjoy, I host a lot of parties, you see. I bought a painting on the recommendation of a dealer in Paris a few years back and ever since then I've been hooked. The looks on people's faces when I unveil a new piece!" I touched his arm and gave a happy sigh. "Truthfully, I know nothing about art, but my guests often do. I'm always on the lookout for new and exciting work."

"Oh, really? Well, in that case I believe I might be your new best friend."

"Or I may become yours," I flashed him a mischievous grin and watched as he chortled. 

"Well, I have a new shipment of artwork coming in from Italy, due next week. It's certainly new and exciting, it's by this up and coming artist–"

"Oh, save the sales pitch until I'm seeing the work," I cut him off, "how do you do business, Mr. Pleasants? Do you have a gallery nearby?"

"Actually, I tend to hand pick artwork for my clients and bring a selection to their home, let them display the work in their desired location to really give them a sense of what they're getting," he explained, making grand gestures with his hand at something in his imagination appearing right in front of us. 

"Oh, well, that's certainly a personal service," I hummed, pursing my lips, "but I think I'd prefer to see everything you've got, especially this new shipment. Don't you have a gallery?"

"Well, I have a building that I keep all of the work in, though it's not so much a gallery as it is a warehouse," he admitted, wearing a hesitant expression, "a private building in the city for security purposes, it's not a pretty place, but it is highly secure and the artwork is kept safe and pristine for potential buyers."

"Oh, I don't mind what the building looks like, just the art. Perhaps you'd allow me to visit? Just give me a time and the place and I won't be any trouble, I'd just like to have a look," I bargained, but he didn't look enthusiastic, he frowned and chewed on his lip. 

"I'm afraid I can't, the building is very secure and there is a lot of money's worth of art there, it's not that I believe you're untrustworthy, I just cannot bring clients there. It's more my partner's rule than my own, you understand, don't you?" He apologised, and I let out a sigh, pouting glumly. 

"Fine, I get it. Can't be too careful, I suppose. Well, what if you do what you normally do and bring me some paintings to look at? If you don't mind, I'd rather view them at a hotel, so my husband doesn't find out I'm spending all our money again," I laughed, and he visibly relaxed. 

"I suppose I can manage that," he nodded, smiling at me, eager to keep me keen, "what sort of art are you after?"

"How about you bring me that Italian work? I'm not too picky, if it's new and popular, I'm all for it," I suggested.

"Well, in that case, I think you'll be very pleased."

"May I ask that you bring the work to the Saint's Hotel in Valentine? I know it's a bit of a ways away, but trust me, it's closer than my home," I chuckled.

"Valentine? That's no problem at all my dear. The paintings will be arriving in Saint Denis next Friday, so perhaps we could set the viewing up for Saturday morning?" 

"Evening would be better for me, I think," I pondered. The roads would be quieter, I thought.

"Evening it shall be, then. Shall we say six o'clock, next Saturday, at the hotel in Valentine?"

"Absolutely!" I offered my hand to him again and he shook it. 

"Wonderful!" 

A moment later, a loud bang rang out across the sky. I was a moment away from ducking for cover, but I saw the burst of light in the air above us, a shower of colourful sparks, followed by many more. Fireworks!

"How beautiful," I breathed, mostly to myself. 

The sky lit up with explosion after explosion, everyone stopped in their tracks and watched the display. Sounds of awe surrounded me as the crowd enjoyed the beauty going on overhead. Part of me wished that Arthur was standing next to me so we could enjoy them together, I wondered if he found them as pretty as I did. 

It occurred to me then, as I enjoyed that small moment of peace where I didn't have to think of anything but the celebrations going on around me, that it was my birthday. I'd honestly forgotten. I smiled to myself, figuring that attending a fancy ball, never mind the purpose of doing so, had been a memorable experience for a birthday to say the least.

-

"I've never felt so awkward in all my life," Bill was grumbling once we were all back in the coach heading back to camp after the party. He carried on muttering about how awful the party was, much to my amusement. I kept quiet, though, only smiling to myself as to not rile him up further. I'd spotted him ambling about the place in his too short pants, wondering what to do with himself. He was a fish out of water in that place.

I realised Bill had stopped complaining when Arthur handed a piece of paper to Dutch, who's eyes seemed to light up at whatever it was. It seemed like we'd come away with a few decent leads; Hosea might've found a bank to rob, Dutch mentioned a trolley station and a poker game on a boat that could be of use. I waited until we were clear of the party to explain my findings, and Dutch didn't hesitate to ask me what I'd been doing as soon as there was a lull in the conversation on the way home. 

"Did you find anything of interest, my dear?" He asked casually, he almost sounded as if he wasn't hopeful.

"I believe I did, if you have a couple men free next Saturday evening," I began, and Dutch raised his brows with intrigue. 

"Oh?" 

All four men looked at me interestedly. 

"I got talking with this art dealer, I arranged to view some paintings. He's bringing them up from Saint Denis to Valentine, so my thinking was you fellers could intercept somewhere along the way and take them off his hands," I explained, looking between Hosea and Dutch in particular for approval, "preferably without putting a bullet in him," I added.

"Paintings?" Hosea repeated, then gestured to Arthur, "Seamus'd know what to do with those. You could take them to him."

Arthur nodded thoughtfully.

"I think they're worth a fair bit," I told them, and Dutch hummed.

"Not bad," he appraised, then glanced at Arthur, "could be one for you and Lenny. Maybe one more."

"Take John with you," Hosea suggested.

"Alright. Well done, I knew you'd make yourself useful," Arthur smiled at me, and my heart fluttered with pride.


	35. Defender

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of fluff after the party. Micah pushes his luck a bit too far and gets what’s coming to him. Arthur helps to save the day when something goes wrong, naturally. Contains: drinking, violence, kidnapping, conflict.

When we arrived at camp, I was pleased to see that people were in high spirits. The girls had taken it upon themselves to throw a ball of their own; Pearson had made devilled gator eggs for dinner (which us five latecomers had to fight over the very last of), Dutch's phonograph was playing music, and people were dancing. 

Abigail and John were in a quiet spot behind Dutch's tent, slowly spinning together and sharing quiet conversation between them; I hadn't seen Abigail smile in such a way before and it warmed my heart. Kieran was awkwardly dancing with Mary-Beth, though it looked more like she was pulling him around while he just let her with this kooky smile on his face. Karen was drunk as could be, and she and Tilly were giggling about something by the girls' wagon. 

Dutch disappeared into the house after a while with Molly, and everyone else sat and drank in the muggy warmth of the swamp, enjoying the moment of serenity that seemed to settle over the camp during nights like this. 

Arthur was about to head inside to get changed, but I called after him and sheepishly asked if he'd like to dance. Initially he made a face of uncertainty, questioning if I was sure. I was, and I took him by both hands and led him towards the sound of the phonograph, grinning at him, and he soon loosened up to the idea.

"We aren't the only ones dancing," I reminded him, but walked us behind Pearson's wagon anyway, so we weren't in view of everyone. 

"Mary-Beth likes that O'Driscoll, don't she?" Arthur chuckled. I wrapped my arms around his neck and swayed in time to the music, feeling his hands settle on my waist.

"She sure does. And don't call him that," I addressed him with a faux tone of disapproval, a smile still plastered on my face.

"O'Driscoll?"

"It winds him up."

"That's sort of the point," he said, and I snorted, shaking my head at him. 

"Kieran's a nice feller."

"He ain't bad," he admitted, then spun me around before asking, "does this mean I got competition?"

"I like him, but not like Mary-Beth does," I giggled.

"Good, I can handle that," he nodded, smirking and ducking his head to kiss the edge of my jaw, "'cause I was getting used to this."

"Yeah?"

"Mm, getting to call such a beautiful girl my sweetheart," he whispered, sending tingles down each of my limbs, a delightful squeeze in my heart. "This dress… can't get over how amazing you look."

"Arthur," I breathed, my cheeks were beginning to hurt from smiling.

He pulled me flush against him, his hands moving to the small of my back, his mouth hovering close to my ear. "I'm glad you came to the party. Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I did. Did you see the fireworks? Weren't they lovely?"

He chuckled and I felt it vibrate through my body. "Yeah, they were."

"You know, I only realised then what day it is," I began, "it's my birthday."

Arthur froze for a second, then tightened his arms around me. "Aw, happy birthday, princess. You could'a told me sooner, I would've got you something."

"I don't want you to get me anything, I didn't even remember it myself," I laughed.

"No, I should do something for you."

"I don't want no fuss," I practically pleaded with him, dipping my head, "I don't like that kind of attention, truly. And trust me, I ain't saying this with the secret hope you'll do some big elaborate thing for me, so don't feel like that's what you gotta do."

"You ain't… this ain't a backwards hint for me to do something big and elaborate, is it?" He said after a long pause. I burst into giggles. 

"No, I'm being completely transparent. I don't want nothing, I'm happy just having you. I promise," I kissed the side of his neck. "Please for the love of God don't do anything big or elaborate," I warned.

"Alright, 'cause I won't, if that's what you really want. Unless…" I heard the smirk in his voice.

"Arthur."

"Got it. So it'd be a disaster if I told everyone and organised a huge party with more fireworks and everyone in suits and gowns and–" 

" _Arthur_ ," I said more firmly, burying my face in his shoulder. 

"Alright, I definitely, definitely won't do that tomorrow night," it sounded like he was holding back laughter.

"You think I don't know you're just trying to be funny?" I accused through a smirk.

Arthur laughed hard, squeezing me tight in his arms. "Of course I am. Don't worry, angel face, I ain't gonna do nothing."

He pulled back enough to kiss my lips, all sweet and playful, just a little tongue, making me hum out my contentment. Our dance dissolved not unlike the time we'd danced before in his room, both of us distracted by our kiss. He let loose a quiet groan when I brought my hands to his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his dress shirt. I pulled back to look at him. 

"You look so good in this suit. If you could see yourself the way I see you," I whispered, shaking my head. 

Arthur smiled bashfully at my words, kissed me again, walked me back against the side of Pearson's wagon and caged me in with his arms. I weakened under his attention, my tummy doing excited flips and spins. My mind went dizzy and blank. Arching into him, my arms encircled his neck and he pinned me by his hips, the wagon rattled behind me. We'd forgotten where we were, that was for sure.

"What in God's name is going on back here? Oh, Christ–" Pearson interrupted us and Arthur tore his mouth away from me, but his body didn't move for a few moments more, until he realised how close we'd become then he carefully peeled himself away.

"What? What's the problem?" Arthur asked, his voice gruff and impatient though he uttered it as if nothing was amiss. 

"Nothing! Sorry, I'll just, uh," Pearson murmured, retreating back around to the other side of the wagon.

We exchanged a look and a breathy laugh. 

"Come on, we should get changed. That dress of yours'll get ruined out here."

"If you wanna get me out of this dress, you don't have to give me an excuse, just ask nicely," I teased, smirking at him. He laughed and reached for my shoulder, pushing me towards the house while he shook his head at me. 

"Now who's trying to be funny?"

"Oh, you think I'm joking," I flashed him a devilish grin.

We headed inside, skipping up the porch steps and through the front door hand in hand. Heading through to the staircase, we were interrupted by Micah, lounging on the floor up against the wall with a bottle in his hand. He seemed to have been getting involved in the festivities in his own way, drinking himself silly all alone in the house, he had an aura around him that absolutely reeked of booze. We were trying to pass him by without a word, but when he slid his leg out across the floor in front of our feet in an attempt to trip us up, we stopped dead and looked at him.

"Evening, Micah," I said monotonously.

"Enjoy the soiree?" He questioned, sarcasm overflowing from his slurred words. 

"It was a pleasant enough evening," I nodded, "a little tiring, though, we wanted to head to bed," I hinted and Micah just laughed.

"Plannin' on giving her a good bumpin', Arthur?" 

"'Scuse me?" Arthur screwed his face up, gaining more giggles from the childish drunk in front of us.

"Give her one from me, will ya?" Micah added, licking his lips and trailing his eyes carnally up and down my body. I instinctively raised a hand to my collar bone, obscuring my cleavage with my arm. 

"Mind your damn business, you filthy pig," Arthur said, squeezing my hand and tugging me around Micah's leg towards the stairs. 

"She tight, Morgan? Bet she is," Micah said, and for once I wished I was clueless enough to not understand what he was referring to. Arthur let go of my hand and spun around, stepping back into Micah's space. Micah hissed in pain, and I looked down to see Arthur's boot pressed into his hand. My heart throbbed with adrenaline.

"What was that?" Arthur growled, his jaw clenched tight. Though he was clearly in pain, Micah was still smiling, like he was getting some sick enjoyment from riling Arthur up.

"Asked if your girly's a tight one. And hey, what're those tits like under there? They nice and young 'n' perky?" He continued, refusing to put down the shovel. I could see the tension in Arthur's shoulders and I knew he was going to lash out eventually, I didn't have any desire to stop him. 

"You think you're a real card, don't ya? You're gonna watch your mouth from now on, otherwise you'll be picking your teeth up off'a the floor," Arthur warned, twisting his foot, grinding down on Micah's hand. 

Micah's voice was strained but his pain didn't stop him. "What am I saying? I know what they're like. Never used to like her in pants till I saw her all wet from the rain, she don't wear much under those shirts, does she? All clingin' to–ungh!" Arthur swung his leg up abruptly, driving the toe of his boot straight into Micah's face. I gasped and jerked back, hands flying to cover my mouth.

"That's e-goddamn-nough," Arthur yelled, tone deep and chilling.

"Arthur! What in God's name are you doing?" Dutch appeared at the top of the stairs and we all swivelled to look. He was staring at the mess Arthur had made; blood poured from between Micah's fingers where he held his nose. 

"Jus' delivering what was damn well coming to him," Arthur snapped, stepping backwards away from Micah's hunched form, bleeding onto his clothes. His shoulders were jerking, and I frowned at the realisation that he was laughing. How could someone laugh after being kicked in the face like that? He was fucking crazy!

"What has gotten into you, son? Micah is one of us, we have enough enemies out there, we don't need petty fights between us," Dutch chastised him, coming down the stairs and pushing past us to get to Micah. 

"He was disrespecting my lady, Dutch, what do you expect me to do? You never heard the things he was–"

"Oh, grow up, Arthur. Lady or no lady we are all brothers here."

Micah lifted his head, baring his teeth and showing a gap in the front, his mouth rusty and dark with blood. 

"You kicked my tooth clean down my throat, Morgan, that was a good one," he slurred, then reached up to rattle his remaining teeth, checking for loose ones.

"I gave you fair warnin'," Arthur simply shrugged. 

"Jesus, Arthur," Dutch shook his head, helping Micah to his feet.

"Be as disappointed as you want, Dutch, you'll never hear an apology from my mouth. Not for that disgustin' pervert," Arthur jabbed a finger at Micah, "you keep your eyes to yourself or you'll be losin' them too."

"Enough! Oh, how I wish I could make you boys get along," Dutch lamented, leading Micah into the next room.

"We'd get along just fine if I never saw the prick again," Arthur quipped, and Dutch shook his head as they disappeared around the corner. 

Quiet fell over the room rather suddenly, Arthur still had his back to me, his breathing was a little elevated and I could see it in the motion of his shoulders. After a while, he finally turned to me, his face still sour with anger. 

"Sorry you had to watch that," he said.

I shook my head and took his hand, pulling him up the stairs with me. "I'm not," I shrugged, throwing a smile over my shoulder at him. "In fact I thank you for it."

"Seriously? You're gonna thank me for kicking his teeth out?" He queried, voice high pitched and incredulous.

"For defending my honour."

"Of course. Probably could've done that without kicking him in the face, but it sure felt good," he was resisting a little smirk, but it still slipped out.

We made it into our room and I closed the door behind us, turning and wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning in close. "Felt good to watch. Saying all that shit about me. Do you really see– is it bad, when I don't wear the corset and the chemise and all that under my clothes?"

"What? Don't listen to that fool, he was trying to piss me off."

"I just– when I'm workin', sometimes I don't wanna wear a damn corset. You try bending over in those things. And my chemise is too long to tuck into my jeans, so that's another layer I can't wear," I frowned to myself. 

"Shit, is this gonna stay with you? Has he made you insecure about this?"

"Maybe I should get something more substantial than my corset cover to wear under my shirt. I thought it would be okay," I murmured, frowning to myself.

"It is okay," he sighed, nuzzled his face into my neck. "Don't take anything he says to heart, barely any truth comes out of his mouth."

"Yeah, I know," I breathed, brushing the thoughts aside. "Will you unbutton me?" I asked, pulling out of his grip and turning around. 

"Sure," he whispered, fingers going to the small buttons running down the back of my dress, carefully easing them free one by one. "My beautiful girl."

"Arthur," I smiled turning my head to look at him from the corner of my eye. 

"Stay in here with me tonight? I'm feeling like… like I've done enough socialising for one day and I could do with some respite," he quietly requested, unfastening the final button that allowed me to step out of my dress, down to my undergarments. 

"You sure you want me here? You'd still be socialising," I pointed out humorously. 

"Yeah well, you're different. You're easy to be around," Arthur said, shrugging out of his jacket and vest, loosening his bow-tie, so he could relax as he laid down on his bed, patting the spot next to him. 

"Should I take that as a compliment?" I asked unsurely, joining him on the bed, slotting in under his arm and against his chest.

"I meant it as one," he said as he chuckled, "your company is… comfortable. Always nice. I never have to act like somethin' I ain't. That's all I meant."

"Oh, well, I'm glad," I smiled, nestling my cheek to his shoulder, "so, you meet anyone interesting at this party?" I asked, and we spent the remainder of the evening discussing our brush with high society.

-

The next day, the camp was pretty quiet, for the most part. I'd stuck around doing chores, mostly. A lot of the camp had the same idea; John was fixing the wheel of one of the wagons, so when I decided to do some washing, I set up the bucket nearby to keep him company. 

"Saw you dancing with Abigail last night, things between you two are getting better, huh?" I asked, kneeling down and beginning to scrub at Uncle's union suit; a task all of the women avoided like the plague. I found it was okay as long as you didn't think too hard about it. It wouldn't be so bad if he'd give it to us to wash more damn often.

"Oh, yeah. She was in a surprisingly good mood last night, I'm not getting my hopes up too high," he replied and I gave him a look. 

"She seemed pretty happy."

"Abigail; she is a difficult woman to predict. One day she's wanting to dance with me, the next she wants nothing to do with me. I've learned to just respond accordingly," he laughed, hammering at a peg holding the wheel in place. 

"Well, I think you mean a lot to her. Maybe she just don't know how to show it," I shrugged.

"That'd make two of us," he said under his breath, "I always liked her a lot, she's a good woman. I guess I just never know where I stand with her, don't know which version of her I'm gonna wake up to."

"It'll take time."

"Time since what?" John repeated, lowering the hammer, "oh, I guess you know about what I did then, huh?"

I looked at him, I didn't need to say anything for him to know he was right.

"Well, I know I acted out. I know I probably deserve everything I get from her. Don't mean I'll be happy about it, all I want is a little understanding," he muttered. 

"Understanding about what?"

"About being thrust into parenthood. I love Jack, I do, but I don't know the first thing about kids. If he weren't already walking, I wouldn't know that he was supposed to be," he frowned to himself, looking over at where Jack was rolling around with Cain, the dog. "What's a kid his age supposed to be able to do? Is he gonna remember all this when he's older? Is he capable of seeing what a clueless old man he's got?" John shook his head, exhaling a hollow laugh.

I chuckled. "I don't know. I don't know nothing about kids either, John."

"Ain't women got… instincts? They just sort'a know these things?"

"If they do, I've missed out."

"Right," he laughed, then went back to fixing the wheel, "anyway, I try. I know I ain't trying hard enough, but I will."

"I don't think you're useless, John. You got him back from Bronte, didn't you?"

He hummed, showing little enthusiasm for my words. 

"You can be a great dad, you will be. You just gotta be prepared to learn and be there for your son. Maybe you should do something with him," I suggested. 

"Like what?"

"I don't know, maybe sit and read with him? He likes story books, don't he?" 

John considered this for a moment, and I smiled at him. 

"I reckon he'd like that," I added. 

I jumped when out of nowhere something landed beside me; more clothes added to the pile I was in the process of washing. I looked up to see Micah strolling away without a word, and I blinked, unable to conjure a suitable response. 

"Hey! Learn some goddamn manners!" John yelled after him. Micah spun around, continuing to walk away but backwards, spreading his arms wide as if he was clueless about what he'd done. 

"She's doing the washing, ain't she? Those need doing," he responded, words spoken a little gummily from his swollen mouth, then he scoffed and turned away, shaking his head. 

John just stared at him with parted lips, stunned, before looking to me for my response. I wordlessly picked through the pile, retrieving Micah's clothes and dumping them in a second pile, then carried on from where I left off, ignoring them. 

"What a waste of space that guy is," John hissed, making me laugh. "What happened to his face, anyway?"

"Arthur," I said, and John made a snort, an understanding laugh. "Micah and I ain't been getting along so well. I thought we might've been friends, but now he knows I'm with Arthur, he's dropped any trace of charm and instead he's just being an asshole."

"I don't know what's harder to believe, Micah managing to be anything close to charming, or you actually considering him a friend."

"You don't have to tell me. What a fool I was."

"Well, I wouldn't call you a fool, but… naive, maybe," he laughed.

"We worked on some good jobs together, he could be nice sometimes. It's all changed now, tried to kiss me the other night 'cause I told him I didn't hate him," I snorted, "he got a little nasty when it didn't go his way, so that's that."

"Jesus, Micah actually has feelings?" He exclaimed, and I looked at him with a confused frown. "He was sweet on you, right? Now he's feeling sorry for himself."

"Oh, God no, I don't think he was sweet on me. I think he just wanted to bed me, like a… conquest," I admitted, laughing. John's brows raised at my bluntness and I cleared my throat, looking down at the washboard.

"Either way, he's pathetic, don't wash his shit," John concluded.

"Don't worry, I won't," I smirked, "you got any clothes need doing? I'll wash everyone in camp's just to spite him."

"That's real petty," he said, but he was grinning and it sounded like a compliment. We each shared a laugh, and I forgot about Micah quickly in John's company.

-

By evening, Charles returned from hunting and he'd brought back plenty of turkey for us to eat, and so I'd been helping Pearson get dinner ready. I was just finishing chopping up the vegetables when I heard the commotion by the women’s wagon. Miss Grimshaw was marching around like she was on the warpath and Arthur and Mary-Beth were staring at her with wide eyes. I couldn't make out what she was saying but she did not sound pleased, and Arthur immediately rose to his feet when she grabbed a gun and some ammunition. My stomach dropped. 

Arthur had barely just returned to camp, having had a meeting with someone he'd met at the party, Evelyn Miller, something about helping an Indian chief and his son. He hadn't given me much detail, as usual, just that he'd have to meet with the son in a few days. He didn't sound particularly pleased about whatever he was supposed to be doing, but he hoped it'd make him some money for the gang.

Wondering what was so urgent he needed to leave again right away, I put down the knife I'd been cleaning and went over there as Arthur and Susan rode away on a wagon, leaving a shaken looking Mary-Beth to sit back down in her previous spot. 

"Mary-Beth, what was all that about?" I asked, and she picked up her book and scrubbed her thumb up and down the edge in a nervous fidget.

"They've gone to get Tilly. They think her old gang have taken her, I would not wanna be those men right now," she explained, shaking her head numbly.

"Is she in danger?" I balked, a jolt going down each limb from panic.

"Well, it's not ideal, but I don't think she's got much to worry about with those two going after her. Miss Grimshaw knows where to look and she won't go easy on 'em."

"I surely hope not," I breathed, shaking my head and sitting down next to her, "so what happened? They grab her from camp?"

"I don't really know, I didn't know anything was wrong till just now. I hadn't seen her today, but I thought she might've been out on a job with some of the boys," she sighed sadly, "I had no idea those Foreman fellers were around here."

"Foreman? I've heard that name before," I frowned and Mary-Beth nodded.

"You might've read about them in the papers, they're known to be… not very nice men. Tilly ran with them for a while but she got away and joined Dutch. She hasn't been able to fully move on ever since, one of 'em found her in Valentine, I wonder if they've been following her this whole time," her forehead crumpled in fear, and her eyes turned distant. 

"Oh my gosh," I shook my head, "well, I'm sure when Arthur and Miss Grimshaw find her, she won't have to deal with the Foremans anymore," I said meaningfully, and Mary-Beth was quick to agree.

"I guess these things remind us all to stay vigilant. Speaking of, I saw some O'Driscolls near camp the other day. I already told Dutch, and they were dealt with, but I think people should know," she warned me, and I felt sick instantly. My eyes immediately scanned the area around the outskirts of camp for any unfamiliar figures. 

"That does not bode well," I murmured, thoughts turning to Arthur, "were they close enough to know we're here?"

"I don't think so, they probably didn't know what hit 'em. Dutch sent Bill and Micah out to find 'em, and they did," she explained, her tone morbid, "I spoke to Kieran about it last night. I tried to encourage him to stick around other folk more, I know he likes to stray off near the horses, but with the O'Driscolls sniffing around…"

"You like Kieran, don't you?" I asked, noting the way her eyes stared off towards where the man in question was polishing a saddle on the other side of the camp. Mary-Beth giggled at the question. 

"He's a nice man, and very sweet once you get to know him a little. I'm glad he's with us, now, that's all I'll say," she answered, a wide smile on her face.

"I saw you dancing with him last night," I noted, excitement bubbling within me for her sake.

"And Pearson saw you and Arthur getting real friendly behind his station, don't think he kept it quiet," she laughed loudly, giving me reason to flush, mortified. "Don't be embarrassed, you're allowed to have fun! Even if it does seem like things are all doom and gloom around here sometimes. You have to embrace the good things."

"Well, that's very true," I nodded, and as if on cue, a wagon came rolling into view carrying Tilly and Miss Grimshaw. Relief filled me instantly, and I tapped Mary-Beth's arm to get her to look. 

"Tilly!" She exclaimed, jumping up and running over to the wagon. 

I joined her, watching Arthur riding in behind them on a horse I didn't recognise. He jumped down and came over to the wagon, helping Tilly down with an outstretched hand. She and Mary-Beth shared a quick embrace; she looked a little shaken and bruised, but certainly happy to be back around friendly faces. 

"You alright, Tilly?" I asked and she gave me a relieved nod.

"I'm fine, 'specially since I just got to see Anthony Foreman hog-tied and on the verge of pissin' himself," a fiery smile appeared on her face at the end of her sentence, one I couldn't help but mirror.

"He won't be bothering you no more," Arthur assured her with a careful hand on her shoulder.

"He's just lucky it weren't up to me whether he lived or died, you know exactly what I'd've done to the maggot," Miss Grimshaw thundered around the wagon, "but I'm glad to have you home, Miss Jackson."

"I'm glad to be home! Thank you, both," Tilly said to her and Arthur. 

Susan smiled and touched Tilly's cheek briefly before sending her off with Mary-Beth to get cleaned up, then left herself, leaving Arthur and I alone. I turned to him, where he was leaning up against the wagon and lighting a cigarette. 

"I'm glad she's safe. Those fellers won't give her any more hassle?" I asked, leaning next to him. 

"I doubt it. I let the last guy live to make sure he tells the rest of 'em to stay away, reckon we scared him real good," he said, exhaling smoke with his words, "Tilly's a strong woman. She handled it well, you should'a seen her telling him exactly what she thought of him," he smiled, chuckling. 

"I bet it was satisfying for her."

"I bet. Thank God we made it there in time. Anyway, it's done now. She'll be safe. How's your day been?"

"It's been a lot less eventful than yours, you deserve a beer. Or at least a sit down," I chuckled and Arthur shook his head with a smile. 

"I'm fine. Hey, I got you something," he started, turning around and putting his cigarette between his lips so he could lift the saddlebags off the black and white spotty horse he'd acquired. "I know you said you didn't want anything for your birthday, and I'll respect that. But here, how 'bout something practical that I didn't pay for?"

"Something you stole?" I clarified, following him over and taking the bag from him. 

Arthur plucked the cigarette from his mouth and blew the smoke away from my direction. "Something that weren't gonna be of any use to the previous owner," he chuckled.

I opened up the saddlebags, peering inside. It was full of horse kit; a brush, oatcakes, medicine, a set of spurs and a spare blanket among other bits and bobs. There was also a water canteen, an apple, some cash and a ring with a red stone mounted on it.

"I see you asking Kieran to borrow his brush, you still ain't got one of your own. Saw that and thought of you, there's plenty of other useful stuff in there. I thought I might as well give it to you, though it ain't much of a birthday gift. It's something," he explained, and I smiled up at him, then pulled out the ring for a closer look. 

"This is thoughtful of you, I certainly could do with all of this. Thanks, Arthur," I said, then threw the bags over my shoulder to free up my hands so I could try the ring on. "The ring's a nice bonus."

"You like that? Looks like a ruby. Might be worth something," he said, then watched me slide it onto my finger and admire it, "or you could keep it, looks pretty," he added.

"I think I will," I grinned, showing my hand to him. He took it in his hand, lacing our fingers together. 

"You wanna do something nice together? I feel bad your birthday went by without any celebration," he asked under his breath, stepping closer and flicking his cigarette aside.

"I spent my birthday watching fireworks at the mayor of Saint Denis's house, I think I did alright," I patted his arm affectionately, "but I will certainly take advantage of your offer. I'll never say no to spending time with you."

"Alright, what'chu wanna do? I could take you for a meal some place in the city, we could go see a show… we could go out for a ride together," he listed off thoughtfully and I beamed, feeling so unbelievably happy in that moment, I could barely contain it. 

"Can we just go upstairs and kiss on your bed?"

Arthur jolted at my question, his brows going up. After a moment, he let out a quiet breath and smiled. 

"You sure that's what you're goin' with?"

"It's all I wanna do."

He released a breathy laugh, shaking his head, then gestured to the house. "Alright then, my lady. After you."


	36. Horsemen, Apocalypses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, you all know what this chapter is, from the title. Now’s the time I start playing God and fucking with canon, just saying ;) 
> 
> So, this chapter contains: minor sexual content, a lot of violence and gore, conflict, not so happy times. But also some fluff, so it’s not all bad. 
> 
> I gotta thank Hoodoo once again for reading this for me and giving me some advice, I am really pleased with how this chapter turned out and I definitely owe part of my pride to her for lending me her eyes. Go and check her writing out! She’s working on some Beetlejuice stuff right now :D https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoodoo
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! Let me know what you think!

I started sleeping in Arthur's room. I wouldn't always sleep on his bed, it was a tight squeeze and it wasn't particularly practical; but it didn't stop us from spending the occasional night cuddled up together. One of us ended up falling off the bed sometimes, so I'd moved my bedroll onto the floor in his room, and I'd sleep there most often. Sometimes, when Arthur went to bed before me, I'd go up and he'd be sleeping there, effectively forcing me to sleep on the bed on my own. I had words with him about it in the morning, I felt awful seeing him on the hard floor. He could be too much of a gentleman for his own good. 

But it was lovely waking up close to him, even if it wasn't on the bed with him. Sometimes he'd be in the middle of getting changed and I'd get a glance at his bare backside, sometimes he'd be fast asleep still and I'd get a few minutes of seeing him at his most peaceful before starting my day. Both were great at putting me in a good mood.

This particular morning, I woke up to find him sitting up on his bed with his satchel on his lap, he was going through his things. He was holding up a pocket watch, inspecting it. 

I sat up, brushing my fingers through my hair to smooth it out a bit. "Morning, handsome," I said. 

"Hey, sweetheart, you alright?" He asked, bending his legs and gesturing for me to sit in the newly freed space. I nodded as I joined him on the bed, sitting cross-legged in my chemise. 

"That's a pretty watch," I nodded towards the object in his hand and he offered it to me for a closer look. It looked very expensive, gold with a folding case and intricate patterns around the face of it. 

"Got it on that riverboat job yesterday," he said. 

That's what he'd been up to the previous day, more hoity-toity social gatherings; a poker game on a fancy boat, an event Dutch had heard about at the mayor's party. Arthur had dressed up again and had his hair and beard trimmed for the occasion, but he'd arrived back to camp sopping wet. Things hadn't gone to plan, plainly. But the boys had come back with a healthy sum of cash, regardless. 

"It's a Reutlinger, whatever that means. It's worth a bunch, need to get it sold," he added.

"You're not gonna keep it? It's beautiful," I observed, handing it back so he could put it back in his satchel. Arthur smiled and pulled something out of the pocket of the vest he was wearing that day. 

"I already have a pocket watch," he said, holding it up. I'd forgotten about it; it was the stolen one I'd given to him before we were together. 

"You still have that?" I beamed in surprise and he nodded, opening it up and looking inside. 

"Of course I do, I treasure it."

"Aw, that makes me real happy. Even if it was just somethin' I stole," I laughed, shifting forwards and leaning towards him. Arthur opened up his legs so I could kneel between them, leaning over him and moving close to his face.

"You stole it, but you thought of me and gave it to me, that's special," he said, slipping the watch away and pushing his satchel aside so he could bring his hands to my waist.

"Oh, well I suppose I felt that way about the gift you gave me; the horse stuff," I started, then lifted my hand, "and this."

Arthur looked at the ring on my finger and smiled.

"Exactly."

"I've never owned a piece of jewellery like this," I noted, tilting my hand back and forth to watch the stone shine, "I love it."

I kissed him, wrapping my arms around his neck. He made a quiet humming noise and tightened his hold on me, pulling my body flush to his. He was dressed for the day in a black shirt and an attractive red vest, and a pair of grey pants; he looked handsome in a vest. It showed off the way his waist nipped in, a contrast to his broad shoulders. I was in nothing but my chemise and drawers; I took the opportunity whilst sleeping indoors to get out of my clothes at night.

Our kiss lasted and lasted, becoming more intense and indulgent as it went on. I felt his hands creep underneath my chemise, meeting the skin of my back. I loved the feeling of his hands on my flesh, so warm and big but soft and gentle. I broke the kiss but kept my mouth close enough to his that they brushed when I spoke.

"What've you gotta do today?" I murmured. 

"Gotta meet with Eagle Flies, feller from the Wapiti reservation that writer Dutch likes was helping," he mumbled back, "said I'd help too."

"You in a rush to get going?"

"No," he answered, and I felt him smile against my mouth. 

I hummed my approval and kissed him again, leaning into him as his hands traced up my spine, lifting my chemise at the back. I laid down on top of him, feeling his hips shift as my body settled against the space between his legs, and he let loose a quiet moan. His hands moved around to my sides, daring to squeeze between us and seek out my breasts. He was eager. I pulled back a little. 

"Shall I take this off?" I asked, and with parted lips and a slightly dazed look in his eye, Arthur nodded. I sat up and pulled my chemise up and over my head, dropping it on the bed to reveal myself to him. 

There was a bulge already growing in the front of his pants and it made my belly fill with warmth, low down. I licked my lips and met his eyes, enjoying the way they soaked up every inch of my newly exposed skin. He reached for me, hands sliding up my body to cup my breasts tenderly, thumbing at my nipples. I giggled, relishing in his undivided attention and the way he so clearly enjoyed playing with me. He registered my laugh and looked into my eyes, smirking, then brought his hands down my body, hooking one in the front of my drawers and using it to tug me forwards. 

I shuffled closer on my knees, sliding my hands from Arthur's knees all the way down his inner thighs, carrying on. I shamelessly cupped his growing arousal, hearing his breath catch; my hand was there barely two seconds before the door leading out to the balcony swung open without any warning. 

A scream ripped from my throat as I swung my head around to look, and I felt Arthur's body jolt, ready to spring into action. We seemed to realise at the same time that it was Dutch standing there in the doorway – looking surprised, then extremely unimpressed – and reacted accordingly. As soon as I remembered my breasts were out on display, I threw myself against Arthur, chest to chest with my face buried against his shoulder, to hide myself. I expected Dutch to apologise and leave, like most people would do in such a situation, but it seemed he felt the need to say his piece.

"If you feel like doing any work today, son, I'll be waiting out here to discuss this trolley job," he said, all monotonous as if it was _him_ being inconvenienced, "we move on it tomorrow."

"Wha– _Dutch?!"_ Arthur sputtered, his hands leaving my sides I imagined to gesture to his current circumstance, as if Dutch had failed to notice.

"That's all, don't let me _disturb_ you," he said it with thinly veiled anger, then I heard the door slam shut, " _we've only got half the damn country after us and more than twenty people to provide for,_ " he carried on from outside, voice growing distant.

Neither of us did anything for a while, but eventually Arthur began stroking my hair, letting out a soft sigh. I felt him reaching for something, then the brush of fabric against my side as he retrieved my chemise and lifted it to me. 

"I'm sorry, princess. Are you alright? Look at me," he whispered, his voice gentle and somewhat timid. I lifted my head and met his gaze, noting the sad guilt in his eyes.

"I think he saw–" I mumbled, stopping midway and shaking my head, mouth turning in disgust. 

"He didn't see anything, he was lookin' at me and you moved in time," he said, and I knew he was trying to make me feel better, bless him, "and I think your arm was in the way, too."

I took my chemise from him and put it on, my embarrassment quickly turning into anger. 

"What a _bastard_ ," I hissed, Arthur looking surprisingly unphased by my insult to his father figure, "why didn't he knock? Why didn't he just _go?_ "

"I don't know," he said quietly, shaking his head and wearing an uneasy frown. 

I climbed off of the bed, and Arthur's arms reached out after me, but soon dropped. I opened up my suitcase and dug through its contents to find some clothes. 

"Ugh," I shuddered, "I can't believe he walked in on that. _Him_ of all people."

"I'm so sorry," Arthur was looking down at his pants, smoothing out a crease in them as if it was important. I realised he was feeling guilty.

"Don't be. It was me who started it all off. I'm angry with _him_ ," I waved in Dutch's direction, "you should go and talk about that job with him, like he asked."

"I'm not going yet," he said, and I looked at him as I hooked my corset up in the front, reaching behind to tighten it.

"Seemed important, had him barging in here. I don't want him being any madder with you, not for my sake."

"He's gonna be mad whether I go now or in five minutes, only difference is, I won't be getting an earful with my dick half hard if I wait," he snapped, immediately shaking his head and sighing, "sorry."

"Oh," I said in a small voice, my lips curving in mild amusement at his blunt openness, "well, we won't be doing anything like that at camp ever again."

"What?" He looked up at me, momentarily disappointed by the revelation, but a moment later his shoulders dropped and he seemed to accept and understand. "Yeah, good idea."

"Not that I don't want to," I assured him and he nodded. 

"I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising, ain't your fault."

"No, I just wish I could give you something better. You deserve more than this, than being treated like a–" he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and frowned, searching for the words, "like a goddamn inconvenience."

"It's fine," I shrugged. Arthur sighed and got up, helped me tie up my corset in the back, then wrapped his arms around my waist, hugging me from behind. 

"Sweetheart, I…" he trailed off. "I wish things were different, that's all. I keep thinking– turning stuff over in my head, trying to figure out what I could do. I ain't there yet."

"What do you mean?"

"I've made decisions in the past that have ended up ruining the good things in my life. I don't wanna do it again," he kissed my neck twice, "you're the best thing in my life. I think about you all the time. I–" he stopped, not finishing his sentence. Somehow I knew what he'd say and I found myself nodding, my eyes welling.

"Me too, all of that."

"If I could drop everything and run away…" he shook his head, trailing off.

"I would," I closed my eyes, hoping the moisture there would go away.

"Maybe one day," he whispered, kissing my cheek. 

I turned around in his arms and squeezed him tight. He rubbed my back in circles and that comforting act made it incredibly difficult not to lose it. 

"I'm gonna go speak with him. Then I'll head out and see Eagle Flies, I don't know when I'll be back, but I'll try not to be too long," he explained to me. 

"Be safe."

"When I come back we can get out of here, if you want, for a couple hours," he offered and I nodded my head, "okay, angel."

Arthur kissed my forehead, then left me to carry on getting dressed. 

-

The rest of the morning had me in a dull mood. Arthur had left not long after speaking with Dutch, and he'd been gone for a few hours. In that time I'd done what I'd been doing day in day out for a while; chores. I sat quietly with Tilly, sewing, for the most part, but also took a short trip into the city to pick up some supplies for Pearson. When I got back from that I decided to help Kieran with the horses. He was a little more relaxed at talking to me lately, I chalked it up to him realising that Arthur wasn't going to punch him just for speaking to me, and perhaps he was too busy thinking about another woman to worry about Arthur and I. 

I'd asked him about Mary-Beth and he'd gone red, stammering more than usual and trying to politely skirt around the subject. I hadn't pushed, but I told him I thought they'd be sweet together. He seemed to like that. 

Arthur returned around mid afternoon, greeted me with a kiss on the cheek. 

"I'm gonna go find Dutch, give him this," he showed me a bundle of money he'd earned doing whatever he'd been doing with Eagle Flies, "and tell him you and I are going out planning for that job you set up at the party; with the art dealer."

"What's there to really plan? It's all set up," I asked in confusion, worrying I was being naive or dumb, missing something. He chuckled.

"That's what I'm telling Dutch, doesn't have to be the whole truth," he whispered. I grinned at him, kissing him on the lips quickly before sending him off. 

I watched him leave from my spot, standing by Rayna on the very edge of camp, as he headed towards the house. He stopped by Sadie for a moment, chatting with her before Dutch appeared. I looked away then, still feeling a little sick every time I saw the man after that morning. 

Turning my attention back to Rayna, I pulled the brush along the length of the top of her back, nice and slow, giving her a gentle, attentive brush down that she always seemed to enjoy.

"I'll ask Arthur if we can take you out this time, girl. Been a while since you've really stretched your legs, huh?" I said to her, bringing the brush down over her flank in shorter strokes. She shook her head and huffed through her nose as a fly crawled over her muzzle. I smiled, patting her neck. 

I heard something, a scuffle and a grunt, coming from behind the wall right at the entrance to Shady Belle. I frowned and looked over there, hearing what sounded like a harsh whisper, followed by another grunt, this one louder than the first. My heartbeat sped up, my stomach doing an odd squeeze. I scanned the area for whoever was on guard duty, my eyes landing on Charles who was heading down towards the entrance, passing by Lenny, whom he seemed to be taking over from. I waved at him, then put my brush down. 

Charles started speeding up toward me, readying his gun, but he was still a fair distance away when I heard a yell, one that I could not ignore. I ran towards the entrance, passing around the corner and immediately finding myself face to face with the source of the noise. 

It was Kieran, being held from behind by some feller with his face obscured by a green bandana, one arm around his throat and the other clamped over his mouth. There was a second man in front of him, a knife in his hand, his back to me. Things happened all in a matter of seconds, but in the moment my mind ran at double speed, and I could see everything happening from one point to the next. It was like time was moving slowly enough for me to make my mind up about what needed doing, and it was the oddest feeling. 

The man holding Kieran saw me first, his eyes locking with mine, widening a little, then he shoved Kieran onto the floor, face first. My initial instinct was to go to Kieran, see if he was injured, but then I noticed the man reaching for his holster. It was not a knee jerk reaction to reach for mine, it was a series of thoughts that scrolled through all the different possibilities of how I could avoid what was seemingly inevitable, that finally led to me doing so. 

I pulled out my revolver, cocked it on the upswing, and without really taking the time to aim, I fired off a round in his direction. I pulled the hammer back again, fired again, and again and– I emptied the six rounds into him.

He dropped to the floor, there was a split second where I gasped and realised what I'd done, but I was slammed into from the side, pinned to the ground with something cool and sharp butting up under my chin. I looked up into the eyes of the man who had tackled me, they were pale grey, I noticed, then I felt the blade of his knife breaking the skin of my neck as he pushed down. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a scream, mouth opening wide, only to taste the tinniness of blood the moment there was a loud sound, a gush, lots of wet and some solid chunks hitting my face, and the man collapsed on top of me.

Everything seemed to speed up to its normal pace and I barely took a breath before I realised what had happened. My face felt soaking wet and sticky and the body on top of me was heavy, but not for long, because it was being pulled off of me. I opened my eyes then, stunned at how quiet everything had gone, and Charles and Kieran were moving the body together; the body that no longer had a head. I stared for a moment, the taste in my mouth quickly becoming more prominent, and I spat onto the ground, a retch threatening me at the back of my throat.

Charles said my name, crouching beside me, his shotgun in his hands. "Are you alright? Your neck– can you breathe properly?" He put a hand to my chin, carefully lifting my head.

"Huh? My neck," I murmured, reaching up and feeling a slash there, it immediately started to burn and I hissed at the pain. Charles pulled my hand away.

"I don't think it's done anything serious, thank God," Charles breathed. I focused on his face, all puckered with worry, a sheen of sweat against his skin, the barest trace of blood flecking his cheeks.

"Kieran," I suddenly remembered, blinking up at him. He was standing there, shifting his weight from foot to foot, a wince plastered on his face as he stared at me. 

"You saved me," he uttered, the words rattling like someone was shaking him.

"I shot him," my eyes dropped to the body laying behind Kieran.

"Yeah you did, good work, that was a quick reaction. Things could've been much worse," Charles praised me, taking my elbow in his hand and helping me up to my feet. I clung to his arm like I'd collapse if I didn't.

"Who… Who–" I murmured, hearing footsteps and dizzily turning around to see Arthur, Dutch and Sadie rounding the corner with guns in hand. Arthur's eyes went wide but he did not approach me.

"It was O'Driscolls," Kieran announced. 

My eyes dropped to the floor again, one body with punctures in his clothes, soaked with deep, dark red, almost black, shining, a patch in the grass below him still growing. The other laying face down, though there was no face to speak of, just glistening red mush from the top of a ravaged neck.

"What a mess," Sadie commented, a dark laugh escaping her as she stepped forwards and kicked the body I'd shot, checking for movement, "everyone of ours okay?"

"I think so, we've got a cut that needs seeing to here, but it was nearly a lot worse. Arthur,” Charles said, leading me away from the carnage and into the care of someone else. I could tell just by the feeling of his hand on my back that it was Arthur. I didn't look up, unable to peel my eyes away from the man I'd killed.

"No, Sadie, you take her. Arthur, we need to prepare for if any more of these bastards turn up," Dutch decided, his hand going around my wrist with much less care than the way Charles or Arthur had handled me. 

"Dutch," Arthur said, the first word from his mouth, it sounded flat and empty. Very strange.

"Go get John, Micah and Bill, tell them to start patrolling the edges of camp. Sadie, take her to Miss Grimshaw, she'll deal with her," Dutch continued, prying me away from Arthur and into another set of hands; smaller, Sadie's.

"Deal with her? Dutch, she's–"

"Arthur, I'm not telling you twice. Use your goddamn head, she's fine," Dutch's response was angry and sharp and I jumped, exhaling a quick breath.

"Just let me make sure she's–"

"I don't have time for this nonsense! Since when did one person become more important than the rest of us? Think about what's at stake and get moving!" Dutch yelled. There was a period of silence, then Sadie patted my shoulder.

"Come on, honey," she said, then walked back into camp with me. 

I couldn't bring myself to look at anyone, though I heard Arthur say my name, quiet and with an odd, strangled tone.

"We'll look after her, Arthur," Sadie promised. 

"Charles you go get the rest of the women and children, get them inside. Kieran, come with me," Dutch was saying, his voice getting quieter as we walked away towards the house. 

"Are you okay?" Sadie asked me, squeezing my hand and giving my shoulder a gentle rub. 

"I'm fine, my neck hurts," I answered numbly, my face felt weird when my mouth moved, the drying blood tugging on my skin as it shifted.

"I bet it does, that was a close one. Any deeper and…" she breathed, her sentence dissolving. She helped me up the steps and inside where Mary-Beth and Miss Grimshaw were. They both gasped when they saw me, covered in blood, and rushed over. 

"What on Earth is going on?" Miss Grimshaw questioned. 

"We had some O'Driscolls come near camp, they had Kieran too but he's okay, I reckon this one was tryin'a save his ass," Sadie explained, "they're telling all the women to get inside in case more show up."

"I killed one of 'em," I said, and they all looked at me.

"Oh my goodness. Well done, God knows what they'd've done–" Miss Grimshaw started. 

I shook my head, squeezing my eyes shut, "I've never killed no one before."

"You ask me, an O'Driscoll's a good place to start," Sadie snorted, sitting me down on a chair. "One of the bastards put a knife to her throat, it'll need cleaning up."

"Mary-Beth, there's some water and alcohol in the other room, will you bring it through?"

"Of course," Mary-Beth said, going off to get it.

"I feel sick," I breathed, curling in on myself and hugging my stomach. 

"And a spare bucket," Miss Grimshaw yelled through to Mary-Beth. "Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up."

The other women started coming in – as well as some men, including Strauss, Pearson – and I heard some yelling outside. Abigail stared at me with wide eyes, holding onto Jack who was propped up on her hip. 

"Upstairs, ladies," Karen called out, thundering up the steps herself, "John spotted 'em coming!"

"Come on," Miss Grimshaw said, taking my hand and pulling me up, meeting Mary-Beth halfway to the stairs and taking an empty bucket from her and handing it to me. I'd feel embarrassed if I wasn't feeling so strangely numb. 

"I'm gonna help out outside!" Sadie called, swinging a repeater from her shoulder.

"Mrs. Adler!" Miss Grimshaw hissed in disapproval. 

"Don't deny me this," she grumbled, then left through the front doors. Everyone sped up when the sound of gunfire began, a couple of screams ringing out among the women in surprise.

Everyone gathered in the landing space upstairs, in the middle, away from the windows as constant bangs came from outside. We all sat down on the ground, Miss Grimshaw kept trying to take my chin in her hand to lift my head to look at my neck, but every time I heard a yell or a particularly close sounding gunshot I would jump and look around along with the rest of the people in the room. She was wearing a tight frown and seemed able to keep her head among the carnage going on outside, she kept shushing us and telling us to _calm the heck down goddammit!_

"Let me look at your neck!" She snapped at me, grabbing my chin once more.

"I don't care about my neck right now, they're down there getting shot at!" 

"Ain't nothing new, darlin', they can and will handle it, now stop moving!" She huffed, narrowing her eyes at the wound and sighing, "you're bleeding a fair bit. I don't think it's a slashed artery or nothin', ain't _spurting_ out. Probably just 'cause you're all worked up. Let's at least clean you up a bit, you're in quite a state."

"I don't wanna know what I look like," I shuddered. Just from sensations alone, I knew there was a lot of blood on my face. 

"One of the girls, go fetch her a clean shirtwaist!" Miss Grimshaw barked out. 

"Arthur's room," I said to whoever was listening. Molly was closest, and I caught her crawling across the floorboards to get into Arthur's room, scared to stand up in case of stray bullets. 

I heard the slosh of water as I was staring off after Molly, then a cloth was mashed against the side of my face. Miss Grimshaw wasn't exactly gentle with the way she scrubbed the blood and gore from my face, but I wasn't bothered; I just scrunched my eyes up, closed my mouth and let her go at it. It seemed odd, her focusing on washing me while bullets were flying below us, but what else were we to do? Sit and do absolutely nothing? At least this was a distraction.

"Ain't gonna be perfect, you'll need a proper wash in your own time, but I'm assuming you don't wanna strip down in front of Strauss," she said, injecting a small sliver of humour into a very morbid situation. Anything to take our minds off the gunfire downstairs. "While I'm doing this, just hold this to your neck," she took a bundled up piece of cloth from the items Mary-Beth had retrieved for me and held it against my neck.

"Fuck," I hissed, the pressure reminding me of the pain.

"Nice and firm," she picked up my hand, pinned it to the cloth and left it there. 

Downstairs people were entering the house, we were relieved to hear Dutch's voice (rather a novel experience for me) and not a stranger's. He was barking orders out, telling everyone where to go and what to do. I panicked, it sounded as though they were losing control of the situation, and the O'Driscolls were getting closer to the house. I realised with a cold chill that my gun was laying in the grass somewhere outside, I hadn't picked it up after being knocked down. 

I didn't realise I was panting until Susan put her hand on my shoulder and said, "calm down, just take a deep breath. Everything's gonna be alright, you hear?"

I nodded and breathed, trying to pull myself together; it wasn't me down there in the war-zone!

She tossed the bloody cloth into the bucket, inspecting my face. "You'll do," she said, then took the clean shirtwaist from Molly, who appeared by my side. "Girls!" Susan snapped, and they all huddled around me, shielding me from the men in the room. Not that I thought any of them were particularly interested in seeing me in my underthings just then. 

Molly wordlessly helped me unbutton my shirt at the back, peeling it off and discarding it. It was more red than the original blue, and I knew it'd had it. It'd never get clean. I was helped into the clean shirt, buttoned up quickly, and I was relieved to no longer feel so grimy.

"Thank you," I said to the women around me, then froze when I heard a yell that was distinctly Arthur's. I couldn't help but vividly picture him being in the middle of it all and felt tears brimming in my eyes, and squeezed them shut.

I wanted him with me so badly. 

"Shh, shh, I know," Susan cooed, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me against her. Had I spoken aloud? Oh Christ I was a mess.

Susan's chest was warm and soft and it succeeded in helping me to relax in some primal way when she rocked me; I suddenly felt like a baby. It wouldn't be far from the truth, after all, I was putting up more of a fuss than Jack. I pressed my lips together and took a moment to level my nerves, then sat up and out of her arms, putting more pressure on my neck since I'd lessened it in my distraction.

"I'm fine," I breathed. I stared at the ground for the rest of our time stuck upstairs, putting all of my energy into keeping my breath steady and not thinking the worst. 

Susan took the opportunity to pry my hand from my neck and inspect the cut, and I let her clean it up. First she washed away the dried blood caking the area, then used some alcohol on a clean cloth to disinfect it. It stung like hell and I flinched, groaning at the pain, but let her finish what she needed to do. 

My neck bled a little more after cleaning it but Susan put some pressure on it, and eventually she could dress it for me. I thanked her, and she simply shook her head and squeezed my hand.

The gunfire eventually slowed down, and stopped. We all waited with bated breath for something to happen.


	37. Horsemen, Apocalypses Part.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation from the last chapter, Arthur tries to deal with what has happened to reader. Contains: angst, some gory details, fluff.

Eventually, Hosea – one of the few men who had joined us in the house – rose to his feet and called out to Dutch from the top of the stairs. 

"They're gone! You can come down now, though be prepared, there's rather a lot of…" Dutch called back, trailing off. "Pearson, Miss Grimshaw?" 

"Come on folks, whoever can stomach it, get to work," Susan exclaimed, standing up as if nothing had just gone on, like everyone in the room wasn't at least a little bit scarred and practically needed a clean change of underwear. She was one hell of a woman, Miss Grimshaw.

I got up – well, dragged myself up on the balustrade – hugging the bucket to my chest. My nausea hadn't shifted, but I forced myself to move and headed for the stairs. 

"Not you, we only just stopped the bleeding, you move too much it'll start up again," Susan warned, holding me back as people started filing down the stairs to help out. Some hung back, notably Molly and Mary-Beth, and Abigail with little Jack. I couldn't blame them, I certainly wasn't rushing downstairs to haul bodies about, I was rushing to see Arthur, see that he was safe, and to show him that I was.

Even so, I let everyone who was going to help pass first, only descending when Miss Grimshaw was gone and the stairway was clear. My legs shook every step down, so I held tightly to the banister. I met Arthur with one foot on the first step, heading up, he sighed out my name in relief and ran up to meet me halfway. 

"You gonna help with these bodies, Arthur?" Dutch asked, not looking our way. Arthur's whole aura shifted at that; his face dropped into an irritated snarl, his shoulders hunched up and he looked about a second away from lashing out. 

"We've got enough help, he's excused. Come on, Dutch, that girl was a hair's breadth from being killed today," Miss Grimshaw, the absolute angel, fought our corner. 

"Very well," Dutch responded, his tone unhappy, yet accepting.

"Come on, princess," Arthur whispered, turning me around and sending me back upstairs. 

I picked up the bucket of water still on the landing on the way to Arthur's room, and checked that there wasn't any stray blood on my backside before sitting down on his bed with it.

"I'm so goddamn relieved. Angel, I thought– I don't know. All I saw was you covered in blood an-and–” Arthur shook his head and dropped to his knees in front of me, gripping my hands, "those bastards," he breathed, closing his eyes and burying his face in my lap. 

His hair was damp with sweat, and I could smell its muskiness mixed with the metallic scent of blood.

"I'm okay," I murmured vacantly, somewhat stunned to have him nuzzling into my lap, his breaths laboured and unsteady. 

"I'm sorry I didn't stay with you, I would've.”

"I know, you had to be there for the others."

"Princess, I'm so sorry. So goddamn sorry, I can't even begin to tell you," he lifted his head and my heart skipped at the sight of his wet eyes, "you don't deserve any of this, you'd never– if it weren't for me, this gang, having you here where you don't belong–"

"I don't belong?" I squeaked and Arthur shook his head harshly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Not that– this ain't no life for you. You're too good for this. You ain't never hurt anyone and this is exactly what I was scared of; you having to use that goddamn gun when I know it _ain't like you_."

"It's not your fault," I shook my head, my voice was hollow sounding, my heart too full of emotions for any single one to let another show, so I just seemed empty.

"You're a good person. I'm more certain of that than anything and in this gang you're gonna be changed, you're gonna get hurt and you'll end up seeing yourself become someone else and you won't be able to do nothing about it, trust me, I've seen it," Arthur spoke through clenched teeth, his eyes fixed on my chest, his hands squeezing mine so tight, "and it'll be my fault 'cause I never gave you the chance to go."

"Arthur, don't, I don't know what you're saying, you're making me nervous," my vision turned blurry, obscured by light shining on the moisture forming in my eyes.

"I'm sorry, angel," he shook his head, "I think it's worth considerin' getting out of here. You, I mean, just go; someplace safe."

"What?!" I gasped, shaking my head. He let go of my hands, lifting his, holding a finger up to me and shushing me softly. It was useless, everything overwhelmed me and I started to cry.

"Listen, listen, just for a while. You find somewhere quiet and at some point I'll join you, just– money. I need some money, this trolley job, I don't know, I just need enough and then I'll… I can go to you, and we… we can," he ran out of steam as he spoke, losing faith in his own idea, it seemed, "this is all such a mess."

I sniffed and dragged a hand across my cheek to dry my tears, then pushed my hand through my hair. My fingers tangled in clumpy stickiness and I realised my hair was far from clean. I picked something hard out of the rat's nest on my head, and almost vomited when I realised it was a piece of skull. I sobbed, fumbling for the bucket of water on the floor. Arthur helped me lift it and held it steady on my lap for me, his eyes distant as he thought deeply. I cupped handfuls of water and scrubbed at my hair, it tangled and knotted and was a complete mess but I did my best with what I had. I was so desperate for a bath, but I had to look somewhat presentable before heading out to Saint Denis to get one.

"I'm not going anywhere," I told him, breath shaky from crying, squeezing the orange water out of my hair, "I don't want to leave you, not knowing anything about where you are or what you're doing, not knowing if you've been caught by lawmen or _killed_. God no."

"No," he shook his head in understanding, "and maybe I can't send you away, maybe I'm too scared and selfish to do so. Christ, I don't know what to do. Why am I so _fucking stupid?"_

"Arthur, stop. You're not stupid and you ain't gotta know what to do. There's nothing we can do. I'm not leaving, not unless it's with you. And I can't ask you for that," I shook my head, moving the bucket of water aside once my hair felt a little better.

Arthur took my hands in his again, squeezing them, shuffling closer so his chest was pressed firm against my knees and our faces were closer. 

"One day," he said, his head bobbing, "one day you will. I'll save some money, baby, and when the time is right…"

"The gang."

" _Baby_ ," his face crumpled with hurt and he tilted his head, "life keeps on making me choose, I can't keep making the same choice, getting nothin' but pain for it. I just need time, closure, I need to make sure these people they– they have a future," he spoke so quietly, like he was scared of who would hear.

I stared at him through the blurring of my eyes, my lip trembling. I didn't want to hear these words from him. I was terrified that they'd hurt me; whether he'd go back on them one day, or he'd live by them and I'd forever bear the guilt of him leaving his family for me. 

"All I want is you," he breathed, wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and carefully pulling me down so our foreheads touched, "if I lost you… today put things into perspective for me, showed me just how much I– these things are hard for me to say, I'm scared if I say it, it's willing something bad to happen."

"I think I know," I told him through a sob.

"Yeah, you know. You're smart," he nodded, a shadow of a smile on his lips. 

"I know 'cause I feel the same," I breathed and his eyes closed against tears that he refused to let go of. "Of course I do, you're all that matters to me. You and Rayna– _Rayna!_ " I suddenly jumped and Arthur squeezed my hand, shushing me soothingly.

"All the horses are fine, she's fine," he reassured me, and I sighed in relief, "nobody got hurt besides you… are you in pain?"

I shook my head weakly. "Only a little bit," I told him, despite actually being in a fair bit of pain. A constant burning.

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that," he murmured, then pressed a soft kiss to my lips, "that was too damn close."

"I'll be okay."

"What happened, exactly? Why were you over there?"

"I was tending to the horses and I heard a struggle. I think they were gonna kill Kieran. One of 'em was going for his gun and so I– if I hadn't shot him– I didn't want to kill anyone but I–" I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut. 

Arthur got up and sat beside me on the bed, encircling me with his arms and pulling me tight into his chest, pressing his mouth to the top of my head. 

"Don't you feel bad at all, you did what you had to. I'm proud of you, my darlin', I know it wouldn't've been easy for you."

"I need to thank Charles, if it wasn't for him, if he'd been half a second later," I shook my head, shuddering at the thought. Having my throat slit sounded like one of the worst ways to go.

"He's a good man, Charles," I felt him nod, "people like him, it's the reason I can't just leave all this without looking back."

"I know. It's okay."

"Sweetheart, I don't know what I can say, just… when the timing's right, you and me," he whispered, "right now, there ain't enough money and there's too much going on. Just know that I fully intend to give you a better life."

"Just focus on your family, Arthur, whatever happens, as long as you're safe and I'm with you, I don't care about anything else," I told him. 

"My family… you're family, now. Angel, if things get worse," he started with a heavy sigh, "if things get real bad, and it's safer for you to be someplace else, away from me…"

"Arthur," I shook my head and turned, pressing my face into his chest. 

"Just think about it, please. You ain't done anything the law knows about, they ain't lookin' at you. If you can get away and be safe if things go crazy, it'd make me feel much better," he pleaded with me, swaying just a little, moving us both gently. 

"As long as you promise me you'd come back to me."

"Of course I would."

"My apologies for the intrusion," Dutch spoke, his voice coming out of nowhere, I hadn't heard anyone approach. Both Arthur and I jumped at his words and looked up to the open door.

Dutch was glancing between the two of us, his expression bare of any emotion, impossible to interpret. He focused on me after a moment. 

"I came to see how you're doing, Miss Grimshaw explained that you'd been shaken up pretty good," he asked in a surprisingly gentle tone of voice. Or it was flat and emotionless, I couldn't quite tell.

"Oh, thank you," I said, then looked up at Arthur who's face betrayed his discomfort. He looked like someone caught red handed; I wondered how long Dutch had been standing there, whether he'd heard anything we'd said. "I'm alright," I added.

"You saved that boy; Kieran. I'm sure he'll wanna thank you properly," he told me and I shifted uncomfortably. In all honesty, I'd been saving myself when I pulled the gun. I felt a little fraudulent.

"Well, I'm just glad we all got out of that mess alive."

"Me too, Miss," he nodded, "Arthur, I realise I was perhaps a little short with you today. I hope you understand, I was simply looking out for everyone here, and we were all on edge."

"I understand," Arthur responded without hesitation, the words coming out quick and curt. 

"So, you two are serious about each other?"

"Yes," Arthur told him.

"Alright, Arthur. I suppose this has been going on for a while, now, and I get the distinct impression I was the last to know."

"It weren't on purpose–" Arthur started, but Dutch held up his hand.

"I won't ask why you hid it. But I don't like secrets," he interrupted, and we remained quiet until he continued, "anyway, you use this evening to relax, get your head clear; tomorrow, meet me in Saint Denis for the trolley station job. We need money, and we need it fast so we can get out of here."

"Okay, Dutch," Arthur nodded. 

"I'll leave you two in peace," were his parting words. He looked to me once more, nodding his head politely before leaving. He never smiled, though, and it unnerved me.

Arthur took my hand in his, running his fingers in light swirls across the back of it. He must've felt the way it was shaking. 

"You should eat something," he told me, "let's go see if there's anything left in Pearson's pot, hm?" 

"I won't be able to stomach eating till I've had a proper bath," I sighed.

"Well then, let's ride to the city and get you one," he gave me a small but warm smile.

I nodded my head and he led me by the hand out of his room and downstairs. The gang had been working hard to clean the mess up, evidently, since it looked as though nothing had happened. All of the bodies were gone, and everyone had gone back to their business; granted, there was an atmosphere of tension, but still. Things were almost normal, I had no idea how it could've happened so quickly, but it did. Perhaps these people were used to being shot at and ambushed. That was an unpleasant thought.

The ride to Saint Denis went quickly, and I got my bath at the saloon while Arthur waited at the bar for me, sipping on a beer. I scrubbed every inch of my body using way too much soap, and despite all of Susan and I's efforts earlier, the water was still a grimy orange colour by the time I was done. But I was clean. 

I had the horrifying experience of having to dig a piece of bone out of my upper chest, right above my collar bone. It had buried itself pretty deep and I was left with a chunk of my own skin missing, but I refused to stop digging until I was sure it was all gone. Having someone's head shot off with a shotgun right in front of me was an experience I only needed once, and it'd certainly stay with me. I contemplated joining Arthur in the bar and having a lot of drinks to take my mind off of it, but I knew it wouldn't do me any favours, so instead we just headed back to camp. 

Besides, my appetite was beginning to come back after getting cleaned up, and my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten all day.

We made it back before the sun began to set and Arthur sat with me after I'd grabbed a bowl of stew. Hosea came and asked how I was doing in that paternal way of his, squeezing my shoulder and telling me he was proud of me for stepping in the way I did. Stepping in? I'd walked into it like an idiot and almost got myself killed, _but okay_ , I thought. 

"I think this belongs to you," a low, cool voice spoke as my revolver was placed down on the table next to me. 

"Charles," I breathed when I looked up at him, opening my mouth to thank him, but he held his hand up to me. 

"Don't thank me, I should've stopped you in the first place," he told me, and I shook my head. 

"No, that was my stupid fault. I knew something was wrong but it didn't occur to me to just wait until you got to me."

"You just did what you thought was right, I should've known you were walking into danger and done something about it. I was on guard, it was my responsibility."

"Charles, you saved my life. I was silly and got myself into that situation, you got me out of it. Thank you," I took his hand – he looked down at it, his eyes widening slightly at the unexpected touch – and squeezed it.

"Thank you, Charles," Arthur said, and I felt his hand touch the small of my back, "if anything worse had happened… I'm just glad you got there when you did."

Charles looked like he didn't know what to do with the thanks and he shook his head dismissively. 

"Well, I am too. How's your neck?" He asked.

I let go of his hand and touched the bandage around my throat, reminded of the tenderness of the fresh wound.

"It'll heal up soon enough. It only broke the skin," I explained, as Javier took a seat opposite me on the table with a bowl of stew of his own. 

"Maybe one day you an' me will have matching scars, huh muñequita?" Javier said, tugging at his neckerchief, loosening it enough to reveal the ghost of a wound similar to mine, raised pink flesh, the kind of scar that caused goosebumps to look at. 

I didn't know what to say to him. 

"Hey, I know it's scary, right? The feeling of the blade… but trust me, you'll learn to love that scar," he said, then a smirk danced on the corner of his lips, "it's told a lot of guys I ain't one to be messed with. And ladies tend to like it, too."

I chuckled, though even I could tell it was lackluster. Javier gave me a small smile of understanding, and I appreciated the people around me for their kindness, even when the more time went on, I felt like a fool for what had happened. 

I finished my stew and Arthur and I were about to head back inside and up to his room when Kieran approached, all nervous and quiet but with a sense of urgency, almost. I'd spotted him earlier on, out in the gazebo with Mary-Beth, they'd shared a kiss. It was hard to tell from the angle and distance whether it was on the lips or on the cheek, if it was one of good friendship or something more, either way I never drew attention to it. Especially not to Kieran himself.

"I just wanna say, thank you, Miss. You didn't have to do what y' did, you could've just hightailed it in the opposite direction to save your own skin, but you stayed and you helped me," he said to me on the porch by the front door. 

I shifted on my feet, feeling my face pinch unintentionally. 

"I acted on a snap decision. I pulled my gun because he was doin' the same, I don't think I deserve much thanks," I mumbled and Arthur – who was right beside me – squeezed my hand. 

"Well, I felt hopeless, thought I was a goner for real. Thought no one was coming," he explained, looking up at Arthur hesitantly before stepping a bit closer and continuing under his breath, "truth be told, I ain't ever felt much like one of you folk. I thought what with my ties to the O'Driscolls, all of y'all weren't ever gonna trust me. But what you did; that made me feel somethin', Miss. I appreciate it."

"I trust you," I countered, saddened to hear him speak like that. 

"Thank you," he smiled softly, his posture shifting to one of pleasant surprise, "after what happened today, people have been real nice to me. I guess I feel a little more like I… like I belong here, you know?"

I nodded and smiled at him. "I'm glad, Kieran. I hope those bastards leave you alone, now, just don't go too far out of sight from now on, where we can't come and help if anything goes wrong. It was just lucky I was standing where I was."

"We both had pretty lucky escapes, huh?"

"Very lucky."

"Thank you, again. I know you don't think you did much, but I really do appreciate it. I'll let you get on, now," he dipped his head then strode away with an awkward little smile. 

I turned to Arthur, who seemed amused. 

"That kid…" he mused, "he really don't feel like one of us?"

"Well, yeah. People ain't all that kind to him. Including you, so I hear," I poked him in the chest then entered the house. I heard Arthur chuckle as he followed me inside and up the stairs. 

"It's all in good fun, you know. He's a good enough feller, could use some bigger balls, though," he commented. I glanced over my shoulder at him and narrowed my eyes.

"Maybe he'd grow 'em if he settled in more."

"Maybe. Does this mean I gotta stop flicking my cigarette ash in his bedroll?"

"Oh, Arthur Morgan. You'd better be joking." 

He snickered. "Ahh, course I am. He ain't even got a bedroll."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

When we got to his room, Arthur found my satchel sitting on my bedroll. Wordlessly, he peered inside it and retrieved my sketchbook and pencil, handing them over to me before plopping himself down on his bed, patting the space before him. I gave him a quizzical look as he retrieved his own journal and smiled at me.

"Take a seat, we're gonna do some drawing together. We said we would. Might not be as nice as sitting in a pretty meadow like last time, but it's still you an' me, being together," he said. I humoured him, sitting down cross-legged at the end of his bed, turning so we were facing each other.

"You wanna do this?" I asked, concerned that he was just doing this out of obligation, because he felt like he needed to babysit me after such an intense day. 

"Of course. Drawing helps clear my mind, maybe this'll be good for both of us. You still like drawing, don't you?"

"Yeah, even more so since you gave me this," I told him, flipping through my sketchbook. 

I'd filled quite a few pages since Arthur had given it to me; I often drew in the evening when people were winding down for the day. I had sketches of a few members of the gang, some done without them noticing, some done because they'd _asked_ me to after seeing what I was doing; as in Sean's case. I lingered on the page with his portrait, remembering the evening I had done it. He took posing for me seriously, I'd never seen him sit so still. Oh, Sean. For a moment I was sad that I never spent more time with him while I still could.

I took a breath and carried on flipping through until I reached a blank page, then looked up at Arthur. "Can I draw you again?"

"Sure. Maybe I could draw you?" He asked hopefully. 

"Oh, okay then. I've never been drawn by someone else before," I giggled, shifting on the bed and bringing a hand over my hair to ensure it looked neat. 

"Sure you have," Arthur told me with a cheeky little smile on his face, his eyes cast down to his journal as he opened it up to a blank page. I flushed, recalling my conversation with Tilly, when she'd mentioned seeing him drawing me. I hadn't been sure whether to believe her at the time. 

"Knowingly, anyway," I added coquettishly, "maybe one day you'll show me?"

"Maybe," he said in a light, playful voice, "come on, while we still have a little daylight. Ain't the same by lantern light."

"Oh, you sound like a proper artist."

Arthur snorted. "I don't know about that."

And so we spend the evening alone, sat cross-legged, face to face on the bed, simply drawing each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little random, but in case you didn't know, I draw things! I have a redbubble account and I have been posting some RDR2 themed stuff on there lately. Yesterday I posted a sticker set and repeat pattern that's cowboy themed, specifically RDR2 themed (coz it has Arthur and John's hats in it). I thought I'd mention it and post a link here for anyone who might be interested and doesn't follow me on tumblr where I posted this before :) You can get it on loads of different products!
> 
> https://www.redbubble.com/people/fleurescience/works/42543150-cowboy-pattern-and-sticker-set-red-dead-redemption-inspired?asc=u&p=sticker


	38. Out In The Wilderness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and reader head out for some time away from camp after the trolley station job goes badly. Deep conversations and smut ensue. Enjoy!

Arthur returned to camp in a foul mood. So did Dutch, and to a lesser degree, Lenny. They all looked dishevelled and bashed up; Dutch had a pair of black eyes, their clothes were filthy and ripped, Arthur's hands and face were dotted with cuts and bruises. It was clear before anyone said anything that the trolley station job had not gone to plan. I'd been discussing the art dealer job with John when they all returned home, and I watched as Arthur went straight upstairs to his room; presumably to get changed.

John said my name, and I turned back to him. He was staring at me expectantly. 

"I'm sorry?"

"What day? You were telling me when this job was going down," he reminded me. 

"Oh, yeah. Saturday, so tomorrow. Evening time; I've spoken to Arthur about it, he said he'd talk to Lenny. The wagon will be coming from Saint Denis to Valentine, so I'd suggest mapping that route, picking a spot on the outskirts of Valentine, going for it then."

"You're not joining us?" He asked. 

"We all saw how well I handled waving a gun around yesterday."

"Oh right, yeah. How're you holding up, by the way?"

"I'm okay. Ain't the first time a gang of psychos has knocked me down and brought me close to death," my laugh was empty, and John gave me a careful smile. 

"I heard you handled it well, in the end."

"I shot a guy, yeah, no need to congratulate me. People keep praising me for it, it's real odd," I frowned to myself. 

"It's okay not to be proud of it, but you did the right thing; was all you could do. That's all people are praising you for," he shrugged, then clapped a hand on my shoulder, giving it a convivial shake. 

"I guess," I smiled. 

"Hey, Arthur mentioned that job to me," Lenny said to me as he passed me by on the way to Pearson's pot, "sounds like a good one. Well, I hope it is, today didn't go so well."

"I thought as much, what happened?" I frowned, and John spun around in his seat to listen to him. 

"Barely made enough to buy groceries, and Dutch took a real knock to the head. It weren't good. But we made it, so that counts for something," Lenny flashed an optimistic smile once he'd finished, then carried on walking. 

John and I shared a look, and eventually I rose to my feet. 

"I'm gonna go see Arthur," I told him.

"Sure, you tell him I'm in on that job tomorrow," John nodded, and I patted his back appreciatively before heading off. 

I knocked on Arthur's door, calling his name, and he invited me in. He was just buttoning up a fresh shirt when I entered, his back to me. I walked inside, picked up his clothes for something to do, bundling them up and putting them on the table neatly for me to wash for him later. I met his gaze, noting the tension in his jaw and brow. 

"I heard it didn't go well, I'm sorry," I started, and Arthur shook his head, releasing a breath. 

"Will you ride with me?" He requested, surprising me.

"Of course," I nodded, then followed him out of the room as he pulled his suspenders up and over his shoulders.

"Could do with just some space between me and everyone else, this place," he said under his breath as we walked through the house, downstairs and over to the horses. "I'm sure you could, too."

"You're not wrong," I agreed, and we mounted up on our horses and headed out of camp. 

We rode in silence for some time, heading away from the swampy area, out towards the firmer grounds of Scarlett Meadows, where the air was just a little dryer. That was immediately more pleasant on its own, the swamps could be so suffocating. 

I decided to breach the silence. "You wanna talk about what went wrong today?"

"It all went wrong, right from the start. We shouldn't even have bothered with it in the first place; it was a bad idea. Should've known that when Bronte told us about it."

"Wait, Bronte? The feller who had Jack?"

"Yeah, yeah, you don't have to tell me how dumb it was to trust him with a tip-off after that nonsense," Arthur grumbled and I shook my head. 

"I wasn't gonna say that."

"Well, it _was_ dumb. I can't believe Dutch went ahead with it. But it's done now. We're just lucky we got out of there alive," he scoffed, shaking his head bitterly.

I pursed my lips and looked ahead, running my fingers through Rayna's mane briefly. 

"We stuck the place up and there was barely any cash, then the number of lawmen turning up– it had to be a set up. We had to shoot our way out of the city, almost killing ourselves in a trolley crash in the process. It was all complete shambles," Arthur continued.

"Trolley crash?"

"I'm sticking to horses as my getaway from now on," Arthur grunted and shook his head. "At least we got your job tomorrow."

"John said he's in on that, by the way," I let him know, and he nodded. 

"Seems straightforward enough, hopefully it'll make us some good money."

"Don't jinx it," I snorted. 

"Any more bad luck, at this point I'm jus' used to it," he sighed. 

"Cheer up, Arthur. As long as we're alive and free, things are okay," I reassured him, smiling at him. He let out a wistful sigh and glanced over at me. 

"That's real nice. It's a pity I ain't got much room for optimism right now," he said apologetically and I shook my head in amusement. 

"It's alright, Arthur, you ain't gotta be sunshine and rainbows. Just don't dwell on it, okay? It's over, you and the others got out mostly unscathed and you're free to rob some other poor bastards. You don't have to think about it no more, think of somethin' else," I said cheerily and he chuckled. 

"You seem chipper," he commented. 

"Well, I'm just trying to keep us afloat. Things aren't bad enough to be all in despair just yet, and I don't like seeing my man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. That's Dutch's to carry, our mighty leader," I teased, catching the shake of his head and his badly hidden smirk. 

"Your man, huh?"

I looked at him for a while, pressing my lips together. "How 'bout we set up camp out here?"

"Now?" He quirked a brow.

"Sure. I could kill us a rabbit for dinner, we could camp out here. You got your tent, right?"

"Sure I do."

"Alright then, what do you say?"

"You ain't worried 'bout Dutch getting mad with us again?" He questioned, though he let me veer us off the path towards what looked like an ideal campground. A patch of trees with a decently sized clearing in the middle, far enough away from passing travellers.

"He already hates me, so I don't care. Are you worried?" 

Arthur made a noise and the two of us dismounted, hitching the horses up against a tree. 

"He don't hate you," he tried to assure me, and I smiled in amusement.

"Well he sure as shit don't _like_ me," I laughed, "don't worry, I don't mind. It's you I'm sticking around for. Along with folk like Charles and John, Mary-Beth, Abigail… decent folk."

"So you don't think Dutch is decent?" Arthur queried, retrieving the canvas for his tent off the back of Jet. 

"I never said that."

"You didn't, but it sounded like you meant it."

I shrugged my shoulders, wandering around the immediate area to look for firewood as Arthur pitched the tent. We worked in silence for a while, I'd gathered up an armful of sticks for the fire by the time the tent was standing and Arthur was laying down blankets inside. The sun was starting to go down, and I hurried off with my bow to catch us some dinner before it got dark.

When I got back with a rabbit slung over my shoulder, Arthur had a fire going. I sat myself down next to him where he was poking at it, staring into the flames. His face was aglow with yellow light, dimming and brightening with the shivering of the flames; he looked deep in thought. I was in the process of skinning dinner when he spoke again. 

"You think I'd be upset with you if you admitted you had zero trust in Dutch?" He asked. His tone was curious, not in the least bit irritable; it put me at ease, but not enough to want to open up on the topic. 

"You mean the man you've been following since you was just a boy?" I began, then snorted, "I wouldn't blame you if you were, but I don't think you would be."

"Right, so why're you dodging that question just now?" He followed up.

"Because I believe it's far above my station to sit here and spout off what I think about a man I've known for five minutes, to you, who's known him decades," I explained, "sure, I won't keep my lips fully sealed, I'm quite honest about the fact that he's not my favourite man in the world, and that I don't think he reckons all that much to me. But I don't feel right going any further than that."

"There's more to it, I know there is, and I want you to be able to tell me these things. You're my lady, I don't put you at any station lower than myself, you understand that, don't you?" 

"Well, I'm happy to hear that," I told him quietly, putting the rabbit skin aside and beginning to cut the meat from the animal.

"Come on, sweetheart," he pleaded.

"I'm wrist deep in a rabbit, Arthur," I chuckled, "what do you want me to say?"

"Tell me why you don't like Dutch. And I ain't asking so I could try to change your mind, I wanna know because I'm–" he stopped abruptly, paused to think, "Dutch ain't been acting the way I'm used to, lately. I just wanna hear from someone who has a fresh perspective."

I sat back on my heels and looked at him. He held eye contact for some time, then broke it to spear a piece of meat on the end of his knife and hold it over the flames. 

"Okay," I said meekly, "well, I get the impression he likes having people around him that'll do whatever he says without question. And sure, that's understandable to some extent, him being the so-called brains behind this whole gang, but…"

"Keep going."

"I don't think it's all that healthy, is all. He obviously cares about you, but the way he acts with me, it's like he's worried your loyalty's being split. I don't know how best to say it," I explained, shrugging a bit. "Just look at how he was when we went to Saint Denis. You took one night away, while the whole camp was gettin' drunk anyway, and he made out like it was a terrible thing you did. 

"And yesterday, acting like you were keeping secrets from him just 'cause you didn't go runnin' to him the first time we shared a kiss… like he deserves to know everything even when it don't concern him. Like you ain't just allowed to be your own person. Perhaps I'm being melodramatic," I shook my head, looking to Arthur to see him focusing completely on the meat he was cooking, his brow lowered only enough to be noticeable. 

"So I guess that's part of it. The way he seems to have you on such a short leash despite all you do, all your loyalty," I concluded. 

"I have to set an example, I suppose is his thinkin'," he explained and I gave him a look.

"Thought you said you weren't gonna try changing my mind."

"No, I'm– yeah, you're right. Sorry."

"Anyway, you said yourself he ain't treating me like everyone else, that he trusted Micah sooner than this. I've said this before, 'bout how I feel I could be accused of trying to steal you away. Maybe there's some truth in that, 'least for what Dutch thinks of me," I hypothesised. 

"Maybe," he said softly, surprising me with his acceptance. 

"Arthur, just remember that I don't care about all this. Last thing I want is for me to change the way you and Dutch are. Just 'cause he can be unfriendly with me, don't mean I want you to take issue with the man. I ain't been here long enough to make waves so big, never mind what you and I mean to each other," I said, putting my hand on his knee and giving it a squeeze. 

"Don't worry about that. I ain't gonna act any sort'a way with him. But I gotta say, I been thinking stuff since before you, back in Blackwater. He's been doing things I don't understand, I guess he's just been a little more ruthless. I've been hoping it's a rough patch, but things ain't improving; and since being with you and hearing what you've gotta say, well," he sighed, shaking his head a little, "I've been seeing more clearly, is all."

"What do you mean?"

"It means a couple months ago I wouldn't've dreamed of quitting, leaving the gang. Now I think of it damn near every day."

My heart thumped and I stared with wide eyes. Did he really just say that?

Arthur handed me the knife by its handle with the cooked meat on the end. I took it from him, blowing on it to cool it as I processed his words. 

The sky was painted navy blue, now, with streaks of pink only just visible on the horizon. I couldn't see the stars through the thin layer of cloud, but it was a pleasant evening regardless. Too pleasant to feel so jarred by such a conversation.

I pulled the meat off the knife once it was cool enough to touch, then speared another raw piece and handed it to Arthur to cook for himself. 

"If you're really thinking that way," I began carefully, taking a bite of meat to break up my words and allow me time to think, "then I can only say I'm sorry. I know you've been there a long time and it must be daunting to suddenly have these feelings."

"Yeah, no doubt," he snorted, watching the fat ooze from the meat, dripping into the fire and sparking bright.

"I'll stick with you, no matter what," I told him confidently, "I didn't have much at all when I joined, I was just floating along, getting by. You've made me happy, sweetheart, given me something more to wake up for than just surviving."

"You know, I could say the same thing to you. Maybe it's realising that that's made me consider getting the hell out. If I could spend each day with you, without all the crap that plagues us now," he trailed off and shook his head with a wistful sigh. 

I reached to him, stroking my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. His shoulders loosened at my touch, dropping down as he took a slow breath. 

"Let's just enjoy this, hm? Being out here, just us, on a nice warm evening. Isn't this lovely?" I smiled at him and he chuckled. 

"You're too goddamn precious, you know that?"

I grinned and leaned over to kiss his cheek.

The two of us ate the rabbit between us and spent the evening sat around the fire in peace. It really was lovely, just enjoying some time alone with him. I felt as happy as I had in Saint Denis, even without the cushy bed; perhaps even more so. I liked being outdoors, breathing in cool, clean air, enjoying that sweet smoky smell of the fire, hearing crickets and owls working together to compose a constant song. No comfy bed could beat it, not when the city could only offer less savoury sounds and smells. 

We crawled into the tent together, letting the fire smoulder on outside, keeping us warm while the temperature dropped once the sun was hidden beyond the horizon. Arthur was curled around me from behind, his body knitted against mine in a perfect copy of my silhouette, his hand around my front where I held it in mine. We slept like that.

Not through the night, however.

I awoke at some ungodly hour – the sun not yet close to rising – needing to pee. The last thing I wanted was to remove myself from Arthur's arms, but I knew I'd never be able to fall back to sleep without taking care of business. So, I very gently lifted his arm and scooted out from under it, and out of the tent. I crept away from our campsite and did what I had to do. 

I fed our dwindling fire with a couple more sticks before heading back into the warm privacy of the tent, settling down on my side next to Arthur. I was tempted to pull his arm back over me, but I was too scared of waking him. It didn't matter, though, since he shifted and wrapped it around me himself.

My heart warmed at the sleepy action, and I smiled at his tired, breathy groan as he moved around to get comfy huddled up behind me again. I thought he was asleep until I felt his lips at the back of my neck, pressing soft, sweet kisses there above the bandage wrapped around it.

"You okay?" He murmured. 

"Call of nature," I whispered and he hummed in understanding, kissing me again as his arm tightened around my waist. "I'm sorry for waking you."

"Don't be," he breathed, letting his hand creep up my body, dragging along, unabashedly exploring. I let out a surprised laugh. 

"Arthur?" I questioned, feeling him hum and talk against my neck as he continued to trail his mouth around to the space below my ear. 

"What is it?" 

"What're you–" my voice left me as his hand reached my breast, fondling me through my clothes as his hips curled forwards, pressing himself against my backside. "Arthur," I repeated, this time in a breathy moan. 

I tilted my body, pressing my backside firm against him, giving my permission for things to go further. His hips rolled, a shaky groan vibrating below my ear. He was hard. Not even just getting there, already totally hard. I gasped, my body stiffening involuntarily, in turn making Arthur freeze. 

He made a dazed sound, let my breast go, backed off a little.

"Shit, I'm sorry, I weren't–" he huffed a sheepish laugh, "I weren't quite with it, there."

"What? Oh, don't stop," I pleaded with him. There was a pause.

"Really?" 

I hummed my agreement, nodding. 

"I wake up like this sometimes," he whispered, pressing his hips back to my behind, rubbing subtly, "usually it don't matter. But waking up like this, with you lying there…"

Arthur took a deep breath, his nose buried in the crook of my shoulder.

"Well, Dutch ain't likely to interrupt us here," I whispered, and Arthur laughed harder than I expected him to. 

"I would not put much past him," he joked, then kissed the side of my neck, steering clear of my bandaged wound, allowing his hand to move downwards, exploring my thighs. 

His kisses turned to sucking, his lips closing over a spot on my neck that made me gasp. Over time he'd desensitised me to my once unbearable ticklishness, now it was only pleasure I felt.

As he sucked on my skin, making me tingle, he tugged open the button on my jeans and pushed his hand inside. I cursed under my breath. _This is really happening out here,_ I thought. He stroked me fast, perfect pressure over my clit, tight circles, having me panting in no time. 

Arthur sucked on my neck until it was on the verge of feeling tender, then he released me, pressing a kiss to the spot before resting his chin on my shoulder and peering down my body. He watched as he pleasured me, made me moan softly, forced my hips to roll on their own, encouraging the motion of his hand and simultaneously grinding against his arousal. Arthur groaned into my ear, shifted. I was trapped between his hand and his hips, pushed back and forth between the two. His heavy breaths, sighs of my name, it took away all tension in me. I wrapped my hand around Arthur's arm and clung to it as two fingers entered me, the heel of a hand grinding down. 

"Mm, I need you," he sighed to me, tilting his head and letting his nose and lips make trails of goosebumps on my neck and shoulder. His breath tickled me and I came close to losing it, my core pulsing and feeling hot and sensitive.

He fucked me with his fingers, his pace moderate, yet careful. He was always careful with me. 

My ass was exposed as Arthur used his free hand to pull my pants down along with my underwear, the air hit my skin and though it wasn't cold, I shivered. There was shuffling behind me, the sound of shifting fabric and metal belt buckles; then Arthur was hot against me, his freed erection rubbing up against my backside, a guttural moan vibrating through his chest to my back.

I came on his fingers, gripping his arm tighter, thrusting against him as the pleasure took over and drove my body to move. I moaned Arthur's name, uttering my pleads for him to have me, to take me there and then. 

"I got you, baby," he whispered, slowing his strokes, removing his fingers, giving my sensitive clit a couple of swipes that made me whimper and twitch. Arthur took his cock in his hand, guided one of my legs forward to give him access.

"Please," I sighed, unable to keep the needy desperation out of my voice. I didn't sound like myself to me, I sounded utterly debauched. Perhaps I'd be ashamed of myself if I wasn't so helplessly aroused. 

He guided himself inside me; each time we did this was easier than the last. I no longer felt any pain. Once we were fully connected, Arthur made a shaky, broken sound as he took a moment to wrap his arm around my front and hold me to him. He remained still for a moment. His face was pressed against my shoulder and I could feel his stuttered breaths rolling over me, hot and humid. 

"You're too good to me, lettin' me do this out here," he rumbled, barely audibly. His hips gave a minute pull and push, enough to have him sucking air through his teeth. 

"You say that like you're the only one who likes this," I laughed though it was more like a series of heavy breaths.

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty sure I'm the one with the better deal. You're goddamn perfect," he whispered, thrusting, picking up the pace. His movements were measured and deep, lingering on the inward thrust, staying buried in me for a second, so deep I felt an ache bloom in my gut. 

"Wouldn't be so sure, you ain't felt what I'm feeling," I said, squeezing my muscles around him and delighting in the shot of pleasure it provided. Seemingly for Arthur too, who released a sudden, loud moan. 

"Ahh, fuck," he gasped, then began fucking me in earnest, quick and hard enough to bounce me back and forth on his length and rob me of my breath. 

I brought one hand to Arthur's, gripping it tight, my other hand going between my legs. I curiously teased my fingers along my folds, reaching down to where we were joined, straddling two fingers either side of his cock. He hummed at the contact, kissing me then clamping down to suck on another part of my neck, right where it joined my shoulder. I whined and tilted my head, encouraging him. 

Arthur was particularly confident that night, it seemed; eagerly pawing at my breasts after slipping a hand underneath my shirt. He played with my nipples, tugging and thumbing them until they were hard and sensitive. He was less hesitant than he had been before. I wondered why, but it struck me with the way he was grunting in my ear and fucking into me quick and needy, that he seemed to have a lot of pent up tension. I understood, it'd been a terrible couple of days. 

"Baby, can we– up on your knees, for me?" He requested after a moment, his movements faltering, his hand planting itself in front of me to hold himself up as he began to reposition himself. 

I was breathless as I kicked my legs free of clothing and rolled onto my front within the confines of his arms; breaking our connection only temporarily. I pushed myself up on my hands and knees and Arthur was immediately settling in behind me, grabbing my hips. He re-entered with a hiss of a curse word. The change allowed him more freedom, and he pulled me back to meet his thrusts as he picked up where he left off. His cock so firmly stimulated an incredible spot inside me and I cried out in pleasure, collapsing forward to rest my head on my folded arms as I took everything he gave. 

"Is this nice, princess?" He asked me, breath laboured.

"Yes!" I sighed, hearing his moan of a chuckle in response. He took a hand and stroked it up my spine, lifting my shirt and camisole with it. 

Arthur slowed enough to appreciate the position, only for a moment, to cast his hands down the curve of my waist, over my hips, to my backside (which he squeezed rather zealously), and back up again. All the while a low moan built in his throat. 

"Fuck, you are beautiful," his words were uttered quiet and gravelly, his voice coarse and earnest enough for me to really believe it just for that moment. It was odd, feeling such a way. 

I squeezed my muscles around him again, earning a grunt and a chuckle and a breathy _that's nice_. Then his breather was over and he fucked me hard, his hips smacking against my backside, his hands gripping me almost enough to bruise but not quite; he'd never lose himself enough to unintentionally mar my body with his passion. Though, I suspected my neck would bear a few signs of it with the way he'd been ravishing it, entirely intentionally.

I reached between my legs again, this position allowing me to touch him more easily. My fingers found the edge of his cock again, I enjoyed feeling him pumping in and out of me. His balls met my hand with every thrust, and I reached to cup them, hearing the way Arthur hummed and sucked in a shuddering breath. 

"What's that hand doin' down there?" He queried playfully, leaning forwards and holding himself up with a hand next to me. His chest pressed against my back, the cold metal of the fixings of his suspenders reminded me he was still fully dressed, taking me through the opening of his pants. The thought thrilled me, oddly. 

"Do you like it?" I giggled. Arthur pushed my shirt further up with his nose, then kissed me between my shoulders. 

"Mmhm," he hummed his affirmation, rolling his hips in an upward motion, breathing heavy across my back as he pressed his forehead to me. "'m close," he told me. 

He pushed himself upwards, taking his cock in hand as he withdrew. He rubbed the head of it along my folds, circling my clit until I was groaning. He was drawing out our pleasure, making it last. 

The few moments of emptiness made it all the more exhilarating when he returned to my warmth. His hands spread my ass cheeks, his thumbs venturing down to part the lips of my nether regions around his length; spreading me open. He let loose an indulgent sound, and I turned my head to look over my shoulder at him. 

"That's real pretty," he whispered, making me flush, "God, I'd love to–" he stopped, biting down on his lip and appearing to make a conscious decision to leave the sentence unfinished. 

I gave his balls a gentle fondle, and he dropped his head back to gaze at the top of the tent with a moan. 

"What's that?" I asked him sweetly.

"I'm being filthy, don't mind me," he chuckled, looking back down at me and smirking.

"Be filthy out loud, will you?" 

Arthur laughed at my bluntness, but it dissolved into a groan when I pulsed my muscles around him; a trick I'd learned very quickly that he liked. 

"You're gonna kill me, woman," he growled, his cheeks flushing peach. "I hope you realise I'm stalling, I don't wanna finish just yet. This is too damn good."

"Tell me what you were gonna say," I pleaded and with a soft sigh, Arthur squeezed my backside, letting his thumb dip between the cheeks. I jerked at the sensation.

"I'd love to finish inside you," he told me, and I swore I felt his cock twitch at the utterance. "See the mess it'd make. Told you it was filthy." 

"I'd love that too," I admitted, and he quickly shook his head. 

"I trust you don't need me to tell you why I won't."

"Of course. It's nice to imagine, though," I licked my lips and brought my hand to my clit, slowly playing with myself. I was incredibly sensitive and I released a breath, letting my eyes close. 

"Oh, it certainly is," he murmured, and began to move again. "I wanna make you cum, angel, wanna see how it feels when I'm inside you." 

"I'm almost there," I told him, rubbing myself quicker. He took me at a faster pace, grunting with exertion as he buried himself over and over, making my insides flutter and my mind grow absent; orgasm building fast. 

"That's it, darlin', I love hearing those moans," he commented, and at that point I was barely aware of the fact I was moaning. But I was. Very loudly. Any late wanderers passing by would no doubt be getting an earful. 

"Oh fuck– Arthur," I cried out, everything in me clenching up, teetering on release. 

"Where'd you wan' it, baby; when I cum?" He asked, his voice under strain and hoarse. 

"Anywhere you want," I gasped. 

Arthur's hand cupped my ass cheek, squeezing and spreading, his thumb wandering down the cleft. The presence of the digit there once again made me jerk and clench, the pleasant sensation sent me. My pleasure hit it's crescendo, my body shuddering and pulsing around Arthur's length, intensity dimming everything around me but him and the way he made me feel.

"Shit, that's nice," Arthur hissed through clenched teeth, "good girl." 

Why he felt the need to praise me, I wasn't sure, but I knew for damn sure I enjoyed it.

In that wonderful period of worriless bliss after my orgasm, Arthur pulled out of me, pushing his cock against the cleft of my ass and grinding until I could feel him spilling over my backside. His breaths came heavy and sounded like growls and he rode out his orgasm thrusting against me. 

It was intense and quick, and it ended abruptly when he pulled away, catching himself from falling backwards out of the tent with a hand behind him. A moment later I felt the blanket on my backside, wiping away his seed. I shifted and made a strange sound; it was extremely odd feeling him wipe me _there._

"Sorry, I got a little slapdash with my aim, there. It was about to drip down and I–" his eyes were apologetic as he looked at me, willing me to understand what he was saying without having to spell it out (for once). 

"Oh, it's okay," I told him. 

"I didn't want it to– could'a–"

"I got it," I grinned at him and he let out a relieved chuckle. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered, leaning over me, kissing my temple. 

"Why're you apologising? That was incredible," I breathed, shifting to lie on my back below him, my shirt and camisole still bunched up, exposing my breasts. His eyes drifted down my body, between my legs briefly. His eyes – usually so soft and easy when looking at me – held an exhilarating air of hunger and pride.

After a moment, he spoke. "Yeah, it was, weren't it?" His little smirk and his cheeky tone sent me into a giggle. "You're an incredible woman," he added, leaning down and nuzzling his face against my neck, gently pressing a kiss to my bandage. 

His body settled over mine, his cock nestling between my legs, coaxing gasps from the both of us.

"I never know what to say when you say things like that," I whispered. 

"You ain't gotta say nothing, just believe it," he answered, kissing my neck, then my jaw, then my cheeks. 

"You could take your own advice, there; the most handsome cowboy I ever did lay eyes on," I grinned up at him and cupped his face in my hands, trailing my thumbs over his cheekbones, "though he don't know it."

"You ain't seen my last bounty poster," he scoffed out a laugh and I rolled my eyes playfully. "I look like one ugly son of a bitch."

"Well, they couldn't put a real flattering picture up, otherwise who'd wanna bring you in? They'd be hunting you down to marry you instead."

"Alright, Miss Jemima Jones, what con you pullin'?"

"Never mind," I sighed, shaking my head at him, "I guess if you really knew how nice you were to look at, you'd get nothing done. Jus' be staring in the mirror all day like Miss O'Shea."

Arthur laughed, but pushed his face into my shoulder as if to hide it. 

"That's why she don't do much. Her beauty's a blessing and a curse," I added.

"Dutch let's her off jus' to keep her quiet. Molly, she… she don't have it as easy as it looks," Arthur told me, lifting his head to look at me. 

"No, I don't imagine she does. Can't be easy being in love with someone like Dutch," I acknowledged.

"No. I've known Dutch years, and I have to say… he don't always treat his lady friends all that good."

"In what way?" I frowned. 

"Easily replaced," he simply murmured. "So, I'd say falling for him; that's her worst curse. He's been brushing her off a lot, lately."

"You think he's getting…" I trailed off, not wanting to say _bored_ , but meaning it. Arthur understood and nodded. 

"Seen it plenty of times, unfortunately."

_Well_ , I thought, Molly could do a lot better than him anyway. But I didn't say it.

After a moment I said; "where are my pants? It's odd talking about Dutch when I'm naked from the waist down," and Arthur laughed, sitting up, back on his heels. 

He handed me my pants and I redressed – an easy process with my drawers still lining the inside of my jeans – as he fixed his own clothes. He moved to sit down beside me, and we were both a little out of breath after moving around in the confined space. We laid side by side, staring up at the top of the tent and watching the shifting light dance across the canvas. A reminder that the thing was fabric, not brick, and we'd essentially just slept together out in the open in the middle of nowhere. Goodness me.

"What we just did," I began, rolling my head to the side to look at him; he did the same, "was real naughty." I smirked.

"What did you expect when you hooked up with a lowlife criminal?" He quipped and I snorted, shaking my head. 

"Well, I don't know. Never envisioned myself doing _that_."

"You disappointed?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, I wouldn't worry too much about our bad behaviour, then," he grinned at me. 

"Is that your life moral? Bad behaviour is okay as long as the result is satisfactory?" I questioned, all in good fun, of course.

"Well, not consciously, no. But it does look that way, don't it?" He said, almost a little sheepishly. We shared a laugh and I shook my head at him affectionately.

"You're a funny man," I breathed, rolling over to snuggle up against his side, laying my head on his chest. I listened to his heartbeat, a little elevated. 

I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I could not find the courage. Instead I thought it, over and over, hoping he knew it.


	39. Country Pursuits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader’s art dealer job has some unfortunate (but is it really unfortunate..? You’ll see) results. Arthur starts making plans. The bank job is looming on the horizon, y’all… Enjoy!

The men were out doing the art dealer job. My art dealer job. I felt full of nervous energy, sitting by the campfire with my sketchbook and pencil, tapping the end of it against the page as I looked around for something to draw that'd take my mind off of it. 

The day had been pretty uneventful until then. Arthur and I had returned to camp with a pair of pronghorns for Pearson and the gang, so nobody commented on the fact that we'd spent the evening away from camp. I thought that was a nice trade. Food for their silence. Not even Dutch had anything to say, only stopping to tell Arthur that he had been thinking of how to deal with Bronte, and that he'd need to talk to him once he, John and Lenny returned from stealing those paintings. 

That was so long ago, it felt like. The boys had only been gone a couple of hours and realistically it was going to take a few with how far they'd be travelling to Valentine, then Emerald Ranch provided everything went correctly (Hosea had spoken to a friend of his over there, Seamus, who'd be taking the art off our hands). Even so, I was restless the entire time. 

I focused my attention on Javier's guitar where it was leaning up against a barrel, and started drawing it. I sketched it to fill up a page, giving it plenty of detail in a bid to stretch out the process, have it consume more time before the boys got back. I could only pray that the job went well, considering I'd brought it to them. If anything went wrong, I wouldn't be able to stomach it.

"You, uh, you ever drawn me in that book o' yours?" The log I was sitting on shifted unsteadily as someone dropped in beside me. Micah. I froze for a moment, eyes going wide with shock.

Micah hadn't been particularly friendly with me as of late, given our quarrels and the whole Arthur kicking his front teeth in thing. He either didn't speak to me at all or he barked some order at me, got me to do something for him. A lot of which, I simply didn't do. I wanted to be useful, not a damn servant. 

"Why, you gonna demand that I do so if I say no?" I asked, not taking my eyes from the guitar, carrying on sketching. Micah chuckled, and my throat itched from cigarette smoke as he exhaled it, not bothering to direct it away from me. 

"Well, would be nice if you did. Show a little friendliness, make out like you might just be able to _stand_ me," it was all spoken in jest. I finally looked at him. 

"I stood you for a long time, remember? More than that, thought you were a decent feller if you tried."

"Well, I told you you was wrong, that this is just who I am."

"Yeah and I never believed you. Though, that was 'bout the only thing that came out of your mouth that's true, so I should've."

"You saying I'm a liar, princess?" He questioned and my mood withered further, eyelids lowering in irritation. 

"I ain't gonna waste my breath asking you again, Micah. You know I don't like you calling me that," I deadpanned, and I heard him exhale a drawn out breath. "And lying might not be the right word for it. Twisting things, though, that you do plenty of."

"Still think I was going 'round trying to convince people I'd fucked you? That's all rather conceited of you, don't you think?"

"Perhaps. Not half as conceited as you thinking me showing you the barest of kindnesses means I must want you to kiss me," I quipped back, and there was a pause before he made an unconvincing chuckle. 

"Whatever," he breathed, sucking on his cigarette hard enough to hollow his cheeks, the end glowing bright before ebbing again when he exhaled the smoke; once again in my direction. It made my eyes water.

"I don't wish to be unfriendly with you, Micah. I never was one for conflict."

"Then I guess you chose the wrong business, this ain't a life that comes free of conflict. That pretty gash in your neck's some pretty solid evidence of that," he muttered, gesturing to my throat. 

Every time someone mentioned it, it burned. 

"I can't argue with that. I guess I could be more clear; conflict with people that once upon a time I got along with, dare I say _liked,_ " I replied, snapping my sketchbook closed when I became too distracted to carry on. 

"You liked me?" He smiled and spoke in a sickly tone that was completely condescending and not in the least bit pleasant or sincere. "First time I've ever been told that. Truly, I am touched."

"Maybe it'd happen more often if you didn't go 'round treating people like crap."

"I've never treated you like crap," he told me in all seriousness, brow forming a heavy line above his eyes. I cocked a brow at him and snorted. 

"You ain't? How about dumping all your shit on me, telling me to wash this, fix that, _I stood in horse shit, scrub my boots?_ And saying all those dirty things to Arthur right in front of me?" I provoked and he laughed, shaking his head. Anger fizzed up and over inside. "And telling me that all I'm worth is my _unsullied_ body, and you only wanted to fuck me 'cause I'm a virgin?"

Micah's eyes snapped to me at that, and it was a fair bit of time before he responded. 

"If I'd've buttered you up real good, would you have been up for it? If I whispered sweet nothings in your ear and called you beautiful and scattered rose petals on the bedroll? Would you have fucked me then?" He levelled his gaze to me, looking directly at me after flicking his spent cigarette away.

"No!"

"Then what's your problem? So what if that's all I wanted you for, if I weren't gonna get you anyway?"

"Well, I suppose you would look at it that way."

"What way do you look at it? Educate me."

"It just weren't nice having that spat at me like I was nothing, like I was completely useless to you since I weren't gonna give you what you wanted. Especially with how well we worked together, how we got along whenever you weren't in one of your moods."

"Well, I guess I figured I owed you the truth. Otherwise you'd be walking 'round thinking you'd hurt my feelings, feelin' guilty, and we can't have that," he shrugged and I rolled my eyes, looking away. "You got an attitude somewhere in you," he added at that. He was smirking. 

I didn't respond, opening up my sketchbook again and flicking through it absentmindedly, opening it to a blank page.

"Well, you should know," he began, "I ain't got no hard feelings. It's pretty clear the ship has sailed, anyway."

"I'm sorry?" I questioned, looking at him. 

"You think nobody notices when you walk in here with Morgan, acting like he ain't been pokin' you all night? The bags under your eyes are as tellin' as they are unflattering, my dear," his tone was low and dirty and I screwed my face up in distaste. "You ain't no virgin no more."

"Whatever," I hissed, though my face felt hot. 

"Those marks on your neck, too, you didn't get those from that O'Driscoll's knife, did you, sugar plum? Likes doing that, does he? Marking what's his," he added, and I stared at him, mouth agape. He was unbearably audacious!

"I don't know. But he sure liked kicking your teeth in," I reminded him, narrowing my eyes. His lip curled up, revealing the gap in his teeth, and he wriggled his tongue between them crudely. I wrinkled my nose. "Just leave me alone," I eventually sighed. 

His nasty little laugh petered off as he surprisingly did as he was told.

-

I must have dozed off at some point when I was supposed to be darning a pair of socks, leaned up against the large tree by the fire. I woke with a start when something tapped my arm; for a moment I was ready to receive a lecture from Miss Grimshaw for sleeping on the job, but instead a hand holding a bundle of cash was in front of my face. My eyes travelled up the arm it was attached to and settled on John.

"Here's your share, sleepy head. Get up before someone sees you, I know Hosea don't take kindly to people doing what you're doing," he advised me, and I took the cash from him, my brows raising. 

"Wow, this is my cut? Just for setting it up? You must've got a lot."

"Yeah, we didn't do too badly at all," John nodded. 

"Did it go okay?"

Amusement twisted his features. 

"Yeah, went off without a hitch. We all rode off without having to fire a single bullet, no one was hurt on the job," he began, and I was about to voice my relief when he continued, "didn't stop Lenny from fucking his leg up somehow on the way back."

"What?" I balked, sitting up. John stepped aside and gestured to where Arthur was helping Lenny down off his horse. Well, dragging him off of it with control while Lenny clung to him, wincing at every jostle of his leg.

I bolted up and raced over there, John hot behind me.

"Lenny! What happened? Are you alright?" I asked uselessly holding my arms out towards him and Arthur in some vague attempt at offering to help. Arthur managed to get him on the ground, balancing on one foot. 

"Sure," Lenny said, face frozen in a grimace, "don't worry, ain't nothing to worry about."

"The kid's horse threw him," Arthur informed me, mild amusement on his face too. Neither Arthur or John seemed too concerned, which brought me some relief. 

I looked at the horse in question. Little, tiny Maggie. 

"She threw you?" I murmured. 

"She saw a snake and got spooked, that's all."

"Was pretty impressive, the way he landed on his feet," Arthur mused. 

"Till he hit the floor, screaming bloody murder," John added and they both chuckled. 

"Glad it's so amusing," Lenny sighed, looking nothing short of mortified. 

"We just robbed a whole bunch of valuable artwork from a serious collector without a single problem, but you can't manage to ride home? Yeah, it's a little amusing. Don't worry, it don't look broken, you probably just sprained it," John said. Lenny shook his head, leaning heavily on both Arthur and John as they helped him towards the house. Arthur called Hosea over, who immediately joined us. 

They set Lenny down on a chair inside, and Hosea kneeled down in front of him. He inspected the injured ankle, asking him about the pain; where it was, how bad it was, if he felt anything snap. Hosea seemed satisfied after some investigation that no bones were broken, but he needed to rest it. He sent me off to fetch some medical supplies, and when I returned he bandaged up the ankle firmly to support the joint, and Arthur gave Lenny some whiskey for the pain, patting him on the shoulder. 

"Now, you just take it easy for a few days, keep your foot up. You keep moving around on it, you'll make it worse," Hosea explained, tying off the bandage before pushing up to his feet, leaning on Lenny's good knee for support as he did.

"What about the bank?" Lenny queried, and Hosea went quiet for a moment. Arthur and John looked to him for his response. 

Bank?

"Well, I'm sure we can manage without you, son," Hosea started, and Lenny sighed and leaned his head back, face a picture of disappointment. "Hey, don't be like that. How irresponsible would it be of us to have you along on a bank job when you can barely walk?"

"I know," Lenny grumbled, "I just wanted to be along for that. Show you fellers I can do a good job."

"I trust you would. Don't worry, there'll be other opportunities, I'm sure."

"'cept Dutch keeps saying this'll be the last big score," John noted with a humourless chuckle. Hosea looked at him, unamused and with a certain look in his eye. 

"Well, I ain't got much to say about that," Hosea replied, his tone abrupt. It was clear he believed as much as they did that their scores were numbered. "Anyway, you stay here, Lenny. Rest up. Can we bring you anything?"

"If I'm gonna be sat here on my ass for the foreseeable future, some books would be nice," Lenny snorted, slumping glumly in the chair as Hosea dragged over a crate and had him rest his foot on it. 

"Books," Hosea repeated with a nod, "certainly."

With that, he headed off. John left too, with a parting sympathetic pat on Lenny's shoulder, leaving just the three of us behind. I immediately turned to Lenny, fiddling with my own fingers, chewing on my lip a moment before speaking. I felt Arthur's eyes on me the whole time. 

"Lenny, I'm so sorry," I began, and Arthur laughed. 

"I was waiting for that," Arthur said, and I frowned at him in confusion. 

"Huh?" Lenny simply grunted, looking at me cluelessly. 

"I'm sorry about your ankle, I was praying all day that none of you'd get hurt, but…"

Lenny looked at Arthur, a hint of a smile curling his lips. 

"Is she for real?" Lenny shook his head and I flushed a little, feeling foolish. Was I missing something?

"Just tell her it's okay," Arthur put an arm around my waist and carefully began leading me away.

"You think this is your fault?" Lenny called to me, then laughed, "hey, don't worry about it. I forgive you for making Maggie throw me, I don't appreciate it, but at least you're sorry," he teased.

I stopped in my tracks and turned back to him, resisting Arthur's tugging. 

"It was my job you got hurt on, that's what I meant. I mean, obviously, right?"

"Listen, somethin' I came to learn real quick. Shit happens. Sometimes it's somebody's fault, but most of the time? It's just shit," Lenny snickered, shaking his head and grinning at me. 

"You're speaking to the lady who felt bad over killin' an O'Driscoll who was about to slit her throat, just let her say what she's gotta say," Arthur explained and I frowned deeper. 

"Hey, don't tease me for having… morals and– and guilt. You were the one blaming yourself for that O'Driscoll ordeal just 'cause you didn't make me leave the gang, Arthur, so you're one to talk," I snapped.

"That was a whole different thing," Arthur frowned, going serious, "I still think about that, you know."

"Well, don't!"

"How long you two been married?" Lenny asked and we swivelled our heads to look at him, observing his mischievous grin. Hosea walked back in then, a bundle of books in his hands. 

"Here you go, son. These were by your tent, but I can ask around, see if anyone can lend you something different?" He began, putting the books down next to his foot on the crate. 

Arthur took the opportunity to lead me off again, with that marriage comment ringing in my ears I didn't try to resist. Oh, to be married to Arthur Morgan… I stopped myself before I got carried away. 

He led me outside and we took a seat at the front of the house, on the edge of the fountain. He groaned as he sat down, sighing in exhaustion. He looked about as tired as I'd felt all day. 

"You alright?" I asked. Arthur nodded, yawning. "Wow. I hope last night was worth it," I said light-heartedly, smirking. 

"Oh, it definitely was. Much better than a restful night, princess," he chuckled. "That job went well, John give you your cut?"

I nodded. "It's a lot."

"Yeah, we did real well. I'll tell Dutch… I gotta speak to him at some point. Wants to talk about Angelo Bronte. Dutch is on about robbing a bank in town, so something's gotta be done about him; the man who seems to run the whole damn city."

"You're gonna rob a bank in the middle of the city?" I balked, eyes going wide and bile rising uneasily in my throat. 

"Apparently. Hosea thinks we can do it, couple of the girls have been out scoping the place. Doesn't look _too_ heavily guarded," he explained, though it didn't quell my fears at all.

"Yeah, but what about after? Fleeing through the city? It ain't like Valentine, where you run for thirty seconds and you're out on open plains," I exclaimed and Arthur shook his head, agreeing with me.

"It's a risk. I know. But Hosea says the place is full of cash and gold, so if we get away…" he trailed off, looked up towards the house. Hosea and Dutch were sitting up on the balcony above us, talking. 

With a sigh, Arthur took my hand and led me away, over towards the edge of the water, out of earshot from any of the camp. I went along with him wearing a concerned frown. He turned to me, then, taking both of my hands and looking down at them. 

"If we get away," he continued, not yet meeting my eye, "we should have a lot of money. Enough for the whole gang to get out."

I stared for a moment, wondering why he needed to tell me that in secret. "That's great, but–"

"Not only that, my cut… my cut would be big enough that – put together with what I have saved – you and I might just be able to– to– we could get away," he finally met my eyes at that. "You and me, princess. We could leave, we'd have enough to support ourselves. I could keep you safe."

My lips parted. I had to admit, that all sounded rather wonderful. A totally fresh start, far away from Dutch and the Pinkertons and the O'Driscolls… with Arthur. Just him and me. I must've started smiling a little because Arthur smiled too, pulled me into a hug. 

"We could do it. We'd see that the others made it out alright; Charles, John, Mary-Beth, all those people you've grown close to. We'd have peace of mind and then we could leave, be done with all this getting shot at and knives held to our necks. Start leading a proper life," he whispered against the top of my head, swaying me from side to side in his arms. 

"You gotta do the bank, first," I reminded him, "oh, please be careful, Arthur."

"I'm always as careful as I can be," he told me, then pulled back to look at me, "I want this. I'm so certain of that."

"Me too," I nodded, cupping his cheeks. 

"All that's holding me back is not knowing what'll happen to these people. I want to make sure they're gonna be okay," he whispered and I nodded in understanding. "This bank could be it, princess."

"Arthur!" Dutch yelled across the camp. I looked over Arthur's shoulder to see him leaning over the edge of the balcony, waving him over. Arthur held a hand up in acknowledgement, then let out a soft breath. 

"I'll see you later," he said, kissing my forehead and squeezing my hands. I watched him walk back to the house, a feeling in my stomach a bittersweet combination of hope and dread. 

-

I awoke the next morning in my bedroll, laying on the floor of Arthur's room. I knew he'd be returning at some point in the night after heading out with Dutch, so I'd left his bed free. I had to smile to myself, then, when I felt his presence behind me, a hand softly resting on my hip. 

The next thing I registered was the smell. Wet, stagnant, musky… unpleasant. I shifted, looking over my shoulder at Arthur to see him lying asleep in just his union suit. His clothes were in a pile nearby, and I realised they were the source of the smell; his jeans and shirt sodden with filthy water, his boots caked in mud. _What on Earth had he been doing last night?_

I laid back down, lacing my fingers with his on my hip, lifting his hand from me as I rolled to face him, replacing it on my other hip. Arthur woke up a moment later, either stirred by my movement or sensing my eyes on him. His eyes creased with a smile when he saw me, but before he could say anything, I couldn't help but ask;

"Have you been swimming around in the swamp?"

Arthur only paused for a moment before answering. "Yes."

I quirked a brow, utterly perplexed. 

"Dutch had us helping out some feller with a boat, reckons he'll get us to Bronte's house so we won't have to go in through the city," he told me sleepily. He started to appear more alert until it all seemed to come back to him in a rush and his face shifted to urgency. "You should'a seen the goddamn alligator out there. Big as a damn bison, I swear."

I nodded in understanding. "Yeah, some big ones out there. You couldn't pay me to set foot in the water, and I grew up there, what on Earth were you doing out there?"

"It's a long story. Ended with me in the water saving some kid, almost had his leg torn off. This alligator… there's big, and then there's _big_ ,” he shook his head in disbelief. 

I stared at him, a little bit horrified. "You were in the water with a bloodthirsty gator?"

"I still got all my fingers and toes, don't worry," he chuckled, but it quickly faded off, "this kid weren't so lucky. Well, everything's still attached, I just hope he don't get gangrene. Could be pretty bad…"

"Goodness. And where was Dutch during all of this? It was his thing, getting the boat, right?"

"He was in the boat, yelling, but otherwise being unhelpful," he said drily, moving to sit up with a groan. He stretched out his back and I watched the muscles work through the clingy material of his union suit, my head propped up with my arm. "Still, I reckon he was shittin' himself. Course he weren't getting in to help."

"Course," I tutted. "I'm so glad nothing happened to you. Gators, they can be real vicious."

"You're telling me," he snorted. 

"When I was a kid, my closest neighbour's son met his end that way," I started, Arthur looking to me with widened eyes, "was out there fishing, waded in too deep and didn't see this big guy in the water."

"Shit…"

"Yeah… all I know is, his dad started firing his gun at the gator, but ended up aiming at his son just to– well, it was the kindest thing to do, apparently," I murmured solemnly.

"Jesus. This ain't filling me with confidence about getting back in that boat, heading out into the swamps again tonight," Arthur breathed, shaking his head. 

"Just make sure everyone keeps their limbs inside the boat this time. You'll be fine," I offered him my most comforting smile.

"Noted. I don't particularly feel like watching someone get torn limb from limb by some dinosaur-looking bastard," he sighed. "Anyway, I best get dressed."

"Me too. And I'll wash those nasty clothes of yours. They stink," I laughed, sitting up and reaching for my suitcase, pulling it over to me and retrieving my corset.

"They do? I'm sorry. I can't smell it, must be used to it. Either that or I stink too," he snorted. 

I leaned over and sniffed him, amusement worming its way onto my face. I held my thumb and index finger an inch or so apart and gave him a sheepish smirk. He dropped the clean shirt he was about to put on before nodding.

"I'll wash up first."


	40. Revenge Is A Dish Best Eaten

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bloodshed, a little misunderstanding, a little planning for the future.

I didn't dare breathe too loud or move too suddenly – or at all, really. If I distracted either of the men sitting in front of me, blood would spill for sure. I already had Lenny's ankle on my conscience, I did not need somebody's missing finger on it too. 

John and Javier were playing five finger fillet on the same table I had decided to sit and draw at. It had been a slow day, all of the chores had been done and there was nothing left for me to do by noon, so I thought I'd get creative. People were bored; evidently, with grown men deciding to risk their own fingers for a quick thrill. They'd joined me not too long ago, pulling out their knives and challenging each other in good-natured competition. I'd never seen anyone play the game before, and suddenly the blood stains on the table that had always puzzled me made sense.

John had nicked himself twice, his pinky finger seemingly always a little closer to the left than he anticipated. Luckily he only had a pair of perfect little cuts on the outside of his finger to show for it. But they weren't done playing. 

"Wanna go again?" Javier challenged, his mouth twisting in a competitive smirk. 

Javier was good. He was yet to do himself any harm and had won both rounds they'd played.

"Of course. I'm just gettin' warmed up," John responded, briefly lapping at his little finger, licking away the blood. 

"You sure, John?" Javier teased.

"Yeah, are you sure?" I piped up, giving him a concerned look. I wasn't goading him like Javier was, I wanted him to think about what he was doing, "they say your pinky is the last digit you wanna lose, after your thumb. It's the one that gives you the widest reach–"

"I ain't gonna lose my pinky finger," he cut in, and Javier laughed. 

"I'm just saying. It's already bleeding," I shrugged, and Javier only laughed harder. 

"His finger ain't all he'll lose, we'll play for some real money this time, huh?"

"Twenty bucks to the winner?" John proposed, prompting me to sigh.

"Sure," Javier nodded graciously then pulled his knife out from where it was wedged into the table. He did a flourish with his knife, somehow rolling it over each of his knuckles without cutting himself before he finally gripped the handle, held it poised over his other hand, splayed out on the table. 

"Christ, John, can you do that?" I questioned and John directed narrowed eyes at me.

"If I tried, probably," he hissed.

"Please, I ain't asking you to try," I snorted. 

"Impressed with my knife skills, muñequita?" Javier lilted, looking me in the eye as he threw his knife up, letting it flip in the air before landing perfectly in his hand again. 

"Truthfully I'm wondering how much blood was spilled while you were learning to do that," I mused and he laughed aloud, shaking his head at me. 

"If you look close he's got plenty of scars on those hands," John commented, leaning towards me, "ain't from darning no socks."

"You talk a lot'a shit for someone who's lost every round so far, Marston."

"Twenty bucks. Let's do this, shall we?" John said with renewed confidence, gesturing to Javier with the tip of his knife. "You first."

Javier complied, taking his knife and beginning his turn. I watched through squinted eyes as he stuck the knife by his thumb, then between two fingers, back and forth moving along a digit each time. He moved fast and precise with the most impressive display of dexterity I'd ever seen; between this and his guitar skills, it was clear that Javier was very good with his hands. 

He slammed the knife into the table when he completed the round, jamming it into the wood.

"You manage that, next round'll be blindfolded," he said, and I couldn't be sure if he was joking or not. I shook my head and exhaled through my teeth.

John cocked his head from side to side, stretching out his neck, shrugged his shoulders as if limbering up. Javier watched with a smirk, resting his head on his fist like it was all so mundane. 

The knife started moving, back and forth, slower than Javier but speeding up. I bit down on my bottom lip until it stung. 

"Don't lose your focus!" Someone yelled. 

It was such a stupid, reckless, awful thing to do. A completely dickish move. Only an absolute, raging cunt would think to do such a thing. Of course, it was Micah, stood over the table with an ugly snarl of a smile, hand hooked in his belt, cigarette hanging from his lips. 

I registered who it was in about the same time it took John to register the pain. 

The knife clattered on the tabletop and John jerked, hugging his hand into his chest and hunching over, releasing a low growl of pain before sucking in air through his teeth. I stood up abruptly, my chair kicking over behind me as I reached for his shoulder. 

"Shit! John, let me see, how bad is it?" I stammered, eyes scanning the table for any stray fingers. I couldn't see any. 

"I said _don't_ lose your focus," Micah commented, brows raised. He seemed a little shocked that things had gone that way, though I didn't know why. Was he incapable of predicting the consequences of his actions or something? 

"Fuck off, Micah!" I spat, prying John's arm out so I could see the damage. "You're a complete prick!" I couldn't stop myself from hurling some abuse Micah's way.

"Goddamn right," John said through gritted teeth.

"You fucking this one too, that it?" Micah sneered and I scoffed, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of his behaviour. 

John's face was a little flushed – either from shock or embarrassment over the whole ordeal, I wasn't sure – but he finally let me see his hand. There was a lot of blood, and I felt a bit sick as I searched his hand for the source; I found it at the base of his ring finger, a deep gash right on the edge, low down. Well, his finger was still attached; but it was deep enough that it'd need some attention.

"Little boys shouldn't play with knives," Micah drawled, followed by a low, gritty laugh.

"Fucking dick," John grunted under his breath, eyes on him as he walked away. 

"Come on," I sighed, tugging on John's wrist and leading him over to the wagon with all our medical supplies. I deposited him on a chair then retrieved a bandage and something to clean it with, returning to him and sitting down beside him. 

"Bad time to ask for that twenty bucks?" Javier had followed us over, looking nothing short of amused now that he was comfortable that John was going to live. 

"I'll pay you after this bank job," John snorted drily. 

"Ain't gonna drop off, is it?" He nodded to John's hand, held out limply towards me. 

"If it does, you ain't getting your twenty bucks."

"Hey, that was Micah's fault, not mine," Javier teased. 

John hissed as I dabbed the wound with a cloth soaked in alcohol. 

"Sorry. We shouldn't take chances on whatever you've just stabbed into your body. I won't ask where that knife has been," I murmured, making sure to do a thorough job of cleaning the cut. 

"What's little Johnny done now? The wolves come back to get you?" Arthur approached, flanked by Mary-Beth. The two of them had been inside with Dutch, discussing security at the bank they were planning on robbing; Mary-Beth had been one of the girls sent to scope it out. 

"Don't be a dick, Arthur," John groused, a miserable frown painted on his face, never shifting. 

"Five finger fillet gone wrong. Thanks to our camp's _other_ four year old," I muttered, noting Arthur's puzzled frown. "The overgrown one with greasy blond hair," I added. 

Mary-Beth snickered. She came over, leaning close to inspect the damage as I finished cleaning up the blood gathered between John's fingers. 

"Ooh, that's pretty nasty. You were lucky, though. I'll never understand why you boys play that silly game," she said. 

"Me neither," I shook my head, starting to wrap the bandage firmly around his finger. I looked up at Arthur, "I do hope you don't play it."

"No, never in my life," he said, far too enthusiastic to even be a little bit believable. I rolled my eyes at him. 

"Well, I'm rather fond of your fingers," I sighed, gaze dropping down to John's hand, "they can do beautiful things."

The resulting silence gave me time to replay my words in my head. I instantly realised how it sounded, and I made a frustrated sound. 

"Goddamn it. I meant your drawings, not anything else," I muttered, my face warming as I inevitably thought of all the other things his fingers could do. 

"Jesus, I _thought_ you was bein' a little bold," John wheezed. They all shared a hearty laugh while I wanted to wade into the swamp and let the alligators do their worst. I shook my head, kicking myself. 

"I jus' meant you fellers shouldn't take 'em for granted. Don't listen to me, I'm a fool," I peeked up at Arthur, he was stood there with his arms crossed, a crooked, sweet little smile on his lips, eyes on me. 

"I understood what you meant," Mary-Beth assured me, patting my arm. Her eyes fell to my hands as I finished tying off John's bandage, stayed there for a moment, then widened. _"What is that?!"_

I jumped, expecting a gigantic spider to be crawling up my arm or something, but Mary-Beth grabbed my hand. I realised she was staring at the ring on my finger; the ring Arthur had given to me after my birthday, the one I'd taken to wearing on my ring finger, where it fit best. On my _right_ hand, consciously. 

John, Arthur and Javier all put their attention on the ruby-adorned gold band. Everyone then looked at Arthur, lips parted, evidently shocked. The confusion was obvious and I was quick to put an end to it.

"This is my right hand!" I exclaimed, holding it up and waving it about. Mary-Beth frowned, looked down at her own hands, then realisation washed away her shock and rearranged her features into sheepishness. 

"Oh! Silly me," she laughed awkwardly. "I thought maybe Arthur had…"

"That would've been pretty fast," John noted, and Mary-Beth flashed him a frown.

"I don't think it can ever be too fast. When you mean the right one, you're s'posed to know, right?" She said.

Arthur awkwardly shifted on his feet, lifting his hat to wipe his forehead before replacing it. Looked a little red in the face, though it could've been the heat. 

"Anyway, that's a little sad. I was jus' starting to get excited. A wedding might be just what this camp needs to lift its spirits," she added with a wistful sigh. 

"Mary-Beth," I gave a nervous chuckle, shaking my head at her. She recognised my embarrassment and smiled at me. 

"I'll put down my shovel," she said quietly, then excused herself. 

Arthur cleared his throat, gestured to John's hand. "That's not gonna put you out of commission for another few weeks, is it? We gotta pay Bronte a visit tonight."

John scoffed, rolling his eyes petulantly. "Shut up. I'm fine."

"Just me making a big deal out of it," I said. 

"No, you–" Arthur began, shaking his head. 

"I appreciate it," John cut him off. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"I thought it best to dress it, it might be little but it could still get infected," I explained. 

"Thanks," John said, inspecting his finger. 

"Come on, Marston. Dutch wants to leave soon, get there by nightfall," Arthur waved at him to get up, pushing him towards the house with a hand on his shoulder, "you too, Javier. We're a man down, what with Lenny's ankle. You can help out, right?"

"Of course," he nodded, and followed John. 

Arthur closed the gap between us, moving slowly, reaching a hand to my chin and giving me plenty of time to protest if I wanted. I didn't, of course, and he planted a kiss on my lips, so tender and in a way, elegant. I stood there, arms hanging at my sides distractedly, completely dumbstruck by the way he just did that, right in the middle of camp. It scared me to realise how easily he could transport my mind elsewhere, somewhere nothing mattered but him.

Then, like everything was completely normal, he pulled back. "I'll see you later. Or maybe in the morning, in which case, good night."

I nodded, unable to speak momentarily. Then, he left. I watched him go, like I always did, forever admiring the back of him, his broad shoulders, his strong stride, his lovely backside. He was incredible. 

"You're completely in love with that man, ain't you?" Abigail's words startled me a little, and I spun around to find her sitting with Jack a little ways behind me. She was wearing a knowing smile. I made a surprised huffing sound, unable to keep from smiling. 

"Good evening, both of you," I nodded to them, shuffling off to avoid responding to such an accusation. Of course, she was absolutely right.

-

I didn't feel like going to sleep when most of the camp went to bed. I wanted to wait up until the fellers came back, so I decided to take a little walk around our campsite. I found myself stopping by a small shack on the outskirts, with a deck that wrapped around it and looked out over the swamp. I took a seat on the deck, enjoying the peace of the night. 

Micah and Charles were both on guard duty, and occasionally one of them would walk by doing the rounds. Micah didn't even notice I was there. Charles did, but he didn't say anything, just gave me a friendly nod and kept on his way; he struck me as a man who appreciated the need for solitude at times, and had no problem leaving me to it. 

I laid back on the deck, crossing my ankles and folding my arms behind my head as I looked up at the sky. It was a mostly clear night, only a few stray clouds floating past the full moon giving it that spooky look, like a werewolf should be howling at it. 

The stars looked beautiful, speckled across the sky, glowing and mingling with the wispy cloud. It looked like someone had flicked paint across a black canvas, softened it with a touch of water. It took me back to being a child, when my father would help me climb up onto the roof of the lean-to next to our house and I'd lay there, watching the sky. My brother would get sulky that he wasn't allowed to do the same, him being too heavy for the roof to support. Of course, I had to stop, too, once I got too big.

I strained to peer up at the building behind me, considering only for a second before coming to the conclusion that the thing was far too decrepit to even attempt to climb. 

I laid there for a while, listening to the call of nocturnal birds and the guttural growls and hisses of gators nearby. When I heard footsteps, it surprised me only because I recognised who they belonged to without even seeing them. I wondered when I'd committed Arthur's gait to memory, firm and purposeful, but not hurried. It was confirmed when he called my name. 

"You alright down there?" He asked. 

"I'm fine, just stargazing," I replied.

"Charles told me you were over here. You want me to go?" 

"No, stay. I've been alone here long enough," I encouraged him, watching him step into view above me. 

He dropped to his knees above my head, leaning down to kiss my forehead before moving to my side. He shuffled and grunted, plucking his hat off, dropping it on his chest and laying down next to me. He released a sigh once he was settled, and I let the quiet linger for some time before I spoke. 

"How'd it go?" 

"It… it uh, it went… it just went. Currently I ain't so sure what to say about it," he murmured, puzzling me. 

"Did you speak to him?"

"Yeah," his tone was light, agreeable, "Dutch had a few words, sure."

"And things are sorted?" 

Silence. His mouth hung open like he was perpetually on the verge of starting a sentence. 

"Uhh, well Dutch thinks we can move on that bank, now," he eventually said.

I frowned and turned my head more to look at him directly, he met my eyes. 

"He… went a little crazy, out there," he admitted after a moment, eyes passively dropping to my mouth as he selected his next words, "ain't seen him so angry and hell bent on destruction before. Maybe that night at the Braithwaite's place, but this was different. Back then it seemed calculated, like he was sending a message, this time it just felt like… indulgence."

"What did he do?" I whispered, bracing myself. 

"We went in and got Bronte, took him back to the boat, started heading back. When he came round he– Dutch drowned him."

My eyes widened. 

"Then tossed him into the swamp, fed the corpse to a gator."

They widened even more.

"Yeah. That was about my response, too," he grunted, rolling his head to look up at the sky. "Won't be forgetting that any time soon."

"Jesus," I breathed, "I don't know what to say."

"Ain't much to say," he shrugged, "all I know is this bank job can't come soon enough. If Dutch plans on acting like this from now on, I think it's high time we all earn ourselves a way out."

I couldn't think of a response to that, either. I was suddenly faced with the realisation that Arthur was genuinely interested in getting out, and really, it made me feel weird. On one hand, I felt sad for him; for as long as I'd known him and years beyond that, the gang was his family. For him to be doubting it all now, was a little bit heart breaking. 

Though, on the other hand, if Arthur wanted to leave the gang and begin living life on the straight and narrow… how could that be a bad thing? The world was offering him a chance at redemption, to completely cease all those parts of his world that he'd admitted to me he was not proud of. Surely taking it would change his life for the better? If he had to say goodbye to the man who'd stood in as a father figure for years in order to make that change, well, it was a price to pay. But something told me Arthur could afford it, with how Dutch had been acting. Everyone could. 

"What's gonna happen, after we do this bank job?" I asked him.

"Well, Dutch is on about getting a boat out to some island somewhere. Told me he'd been speaking to a feller we could pay to get us out, all of us."

"An island?"

"Tahiti," he told me, though his inflection made it sound like a question. 

"Well I guess you wouldn't have to worry about your bounties," I mused.

"Wouldn't that be nice?" He said, but it was flat and unenthused. 

"You don't sound hopeful."

"A tropical island?" He scoffed, "how's a bunch of outlaws from America gonna build a life? He keeps talking about mangoes and ranching and all this nonsense. I don't know how it'll work."

"Mangoes," I repeated, and Arthur laughed. It was a loud, hearty laugh but a hopeless one. The laugh of someone so caught up in the ridiculousness of a situation that they almost didn't realise how much it sounded like a joke. 

"I say…" he began after he settled down, hesitant and a little unsure, "I say me and you, we head West."

"What? You mean after this bank job?"

"I think– maybe. I guess we have to make some sort of decision. Some plan. If Dutch wants to go to Tahiti and start up a mango farm, is that what we want?" He looked at me, his brows curved in question.

"We," I repeated quietly, my tummy warming pleasantly at the way he said that.

"Yeah, we. If you want to stick together… do you?"

"Of course!" I smiled at him. He stared at me for a moment, then slowly nodded his head, a subtle smile on his own face.

"Well then, you interested in travelling across the world?"

"No, not particularly," I admitted. 

"Yeah, me neither," he snorted. "So, say we do go west. I can't show my face anywhere near Blackwater, but if we give that place a wide berth and get past it, avoid all those patrols. I suspect it's calmed down a little by now, anyway."

"You think?"

"I think," he nodded, releasing a soft sigh, "trouble was before there was so many of us. Couldn't miss us. But just the two of us?" He trailed off, looking to me for my response. 

"West," I pondered aloud. "You know I've never been out West, but if you think that's our shot, I trust you."

"Okay," he whispered, his eyes were a little wide, intense. "Uhh, keep your stuff packed. I don't know how this bank job is gonna go, but we may have to leave quickly. My thinking is Dutch is planning on doing this bank, then setting up a boat out of here. If everything goes right, maybe we could leave when everyone else does," he mused, speaking as though he was lost in thought. 

"We just spring it on them? That we ain't going with them?" 

"I… I guess. It might not be pretty," he sighed. 

"No, I don't imagine it will. Dutch is going to try and change your mind."

"I know," he mumbled, scratched an itch on his forehead, "I don't want to go to no Tahiti."

"No," I sighed, shaking my head.

"Truth be told, I don't know who does. Maybe we won't be the only ones not getting on that boat."

"Wouldn't shock me."

"I don't see Abigail wanting Jack to make a trip like that. And someone like Charles? He certainly thinks for himself. I don't know."

"Well, I guess we'll see, won't we?" I breathed, looking back up at the stars.

"I guess."

"Shootin' star," I abruptly said, pointing up towards the sky. Arthur did a laugh that was more like a grunt. 

"I guess we better wish on it. What we hoping for?"

"I don't mind how it happens," I began, staring at the spot in the sky that the star had just sped past, "I just wish for everything to turn out okay."

"Me too, princess," Arthur reached for my hand, taking it away from where it was resting on my stomach. He lifted it to his mouth and kissed the back of it, and didn't let go.


	41. Galerie Laurent

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and reader decide to make the most of the spare time before the bank job. They spend some time with a very interesting Frenchman, and bump into another familiar face too… there’s some mild nsfw in this chapter, but nothing major. This chapter is also a little longer than usual. Enjoy!

Arthur came up to me while I was hanging up some washing to dry; he looked slightly nervous. Well, not nervous, but he was acting a little strange, not quite his usual self. I wondered if it had something to do with the upcoming bank job, but then he started asking me about my chores, if I had many to do that day. I had a fair amount of clothes left to wash, then there were some dishes from the previous day that no one had cleaned yet; I told him that. A little crestfallen, he'd asked if it could wait. 

"Why? Arthur, what're you up to?" I asked, slightly amused. He chuckled quietly, dodging eye contact and looking elsewhere. 

"I was wondering, I got all day free. We're doing that bank tomorrow, but today…" he began, licked his lips to wet them, "I wanted to ask you out somewhere, thought it would be nice if we did something together while things are still relatively calm."

I paused, a smile blooming on my face. "Well, what did you have in mind?"

"I uh, I know a feller. Met him in the city, real interesting character he is," he explained, going to lean against one of the posts holding up the canvas shelter we were under, though it shifted and he abruptly straightened back up, "anyway, he's an artist. Charles Châtenay. He's got a show on at the gallery, thought maybe you'd like to go with me. Might be our last chance to go to the city for a while." 

"Like a date, at the gallery?" I grinned, my heart rate quickening. 

"Uh, a date. Yeah, I suppose it is," his mouth turned up at the corner and the colour in his cheeks wasn't dissipating. "We ain't done nothing like this, really, have we?"

I shook my head. "I'd love to, though."

"Miss Grimshaw won't mind me taking you away from your chores, will she?" 

I snorted. "I don't care either way, I'll get 'em done at some point. But I ain't passing this up for nobody. What shall I wear? I gotta get changed!"

"Anything, you always look pretty to me," he shrugged. Arthur himself was dressed a little smarter than usual in his vest and good trousers; without stains or tears. He also had a little pomade in his hair, I noticed.

I simpered at his flattery. "I'll put something nice on, give me ten minutes," I held a finger up to him and ran off towards the house.

I put on some of the nicer clothes that I'd acquired over time; a lavender coloured walking suit with a pretty black trim, and a heavily ruffled shirtwaist underneath. I braided my hair, too, made it look as presentable as I could without the help of the girls, then hurried downstairs to meet Arthur by the horses. 

We were discreet as we mounted up – me riding side saddle behind him on Jet – leaving as quietly and quickly as possible as to not alert anyone. We would essentially be slacking off in the eyes of some of the others, and I was not in the mood to get an earful; or worse, to be stopped at the last minute and not be able to go. I figured Arthur and I deserved to have a nice day out, it wasn't like we'd ever done it before. Not often, at least. 

We rode to Saint Denis, and I was a little surprised at Arthur's willingness to go into the city for the sake of a date; I actually found it very flattering and sweet. He was very gentlemanly when we arrived at the gallery, gripping my hand as I slid down off the horse, taking my arm as we walked side by side into the building, holding doors open for me when we got inside. I was a girlish, grinning fool the entire time and I felt so happy to be on his arm. Just going on a date like a normal couple, having people see us together like we were, it felt so _good_. 

When we got inside the gallery's foyer, we were greeted by a very eccentric Frenchman who I soon learned was Arthur's artist friend. He was a small man, with dark hair and a nicely styled moustache, striking, weaselly features that made me squirm a little when he stepped too close. Seemed friendly enough, though. 

"Arthur! You came, mon ami. And you have company, I see," he exclaimed in his heavy accent, appraising me with a sweep of his eyes. "You did not tell me you had a wife, Arthur. May I say a very lovely one, too."

"Oh, we…" Arthur chuckled, eyeing me up as he decided whether to correct him. He let the sentence dissolve, and my heart skipped. "She is lovely," he agreed instead, then introduced us formally.

"Pleasure to meet you Mr. Châtenay," I gave a sweet nod of my head.

"Oh, the pleasure is all mine, I assure you. Has Arthur shown you the little drawing I gave him? Are you an admirer of my work?" Charles asked me eagerly, stepping forwards, just slightly too close for comfort. I gave him what I hoped was a polite smile that hid my mild unease.

"Oh, he hasn't, actually. I guess he wanted to surprise me with your work, but I'm sure it's lovely," I told him, and he gave a pleased chuckle. 

"Mm, I sincerely hope you like it, ma chérie, perhaps you will like it so much that you will want to model for me, hm?" 

"To model? Oh, wow, you'd want to paint me?" My eyes widened a little, and I heard Arthur give an uneasy laugh beside me. I glanced at him curiously, but Charles took my hand, lifted it, positioning me to get a better look at my form. 

"Of course! I am always on the lookout for beautiful women who would be willing to sit for a little painter like moi, I can certainly see myself getting along well with you. She is a fine subject, Arthur, no?" He said, his moustache curving with his lips, eyes narrowing playfully. 

"She, uh, she sure is," Arthur said, his smile a little forced, eyes not matching his mouth. 

"Imagine that, being on the wall of a gallery for all to see, for all to admire! Such a pure beauty you possess!" Charles continued, squeezing my hand tighter. 

"I couldn't imagine seeing myself in a gallery," I giggled, feeling my face warm up at all of his charm and flattery. 

"Oh, I can picture it. I _am_ picturing it," he said, his eyes rolling down my body. 

"Okay, that's… that's enough now, I think," Arthur said awkwardly through a chuckle, his grip on my arm tightening minutely. I looked at him, confused. Charles was being nothing but complimentary, why was there an issue?

"You do not think she'd look right at home on the wall of a gallery, Mr. Arthur? Pah! What kind of a husband are you?" Charles exclaimed, though he was wearing a mischievous smile the whole time. 

"Of course she would, not in any o' your paintings, though! I've seen the kinda work you do, partner," Arthur retorted, irritation seeping into every word, raising hairs on my arms. My eyes widened. 

"I thought we were friends, hm? And now you insult my work? You must be no better than these uninspired, tasteless, boring idiots who come in droves just to complain," the faster Charles spoke the thicker his accent became, and some of his words merged together but I could still understand him. 

Arthur sighed, held his hands out to him and waved a metaphorical white flag. "I ain't insulting your work, I'm just saying, I don't think the lady knows just what modelling for you would entail. Can we just– let's just go in. Come on, princess."

"Yes, let us go in, princess," Charles tittered, following us in as Arthur guided me by the elbow. I glanced cautiously over my shoulder at him, not missing the way the artist's eyes lingered on my behind. 

We passed through a small room decorated with elegant stone sculptures and photographs on the walls. Mostly wildlife photographs of wolves and alligators and horses, but one portrait. The portrait made me do a double take as we passed it, and I stopped dead in my tracks where it hung on the powder blue wall. 

"Holy shit!" I exclaimed, forgetting where I was and turning a few heads. "Arthur, this guy looks just like you!"

Arthur glanced up at it, his casual expression soon turning stiff and shocked with eyes as big as wagon wheels. His face coloured up very quickly, and his eyes darted to the other photographs in the room, a sliver of recognition appearing. I took a second look at the portrait, at the gentleman's clothes; that jacket and satchel looked far too familiar, and even through the graininess of the image, those eyes were unmistakable. 

"Goodness, that _is_ you," I murmured in shock, peering up at Arthur. He chuckled nervously. 

"Ah, yes! I always thought that man seemed familiar!" Charles added, leaning between us to get a better look at the image.

"Alright, that's uh– okay, the paintings are in the next room," Arthur mumbled, prying me away from the print.

"What the hell? Why are you on the wall?" I queried. 

"It's uh, it's a long story," he chuckled. 

"Perhaps I should turn my viewfinder to you, mon ami. You're clearly no stranger to being the artist's muse. How about I paint you? Or the both of you together? Oh, that's an inspiring thought," Charles suggested and Arthur gave him a look. 

"Watch it," he said, voice low, a hint of a threat there. 

We stepped into the room, then, and it all suddenly made sense. The room was lined with a dozen or so paintings of nude – or mostly nude – models. So that's why Arthur didn't want me posing for him. I peered at Arthur, cocked a brow above my smirk. 

"Wow, I have to admit. This ain't at all what I expected, Arthur," I said quietly. 

"What were you expecting? Boring landscapes? People painted in dull colours and dramatic lighting, frolicking in the countryside or something?" Charles asked as he passed by me, sauntering into the middle of the room with his arms crossed.

"Honestly, kinda," I laughed, looking around at the people attending the exhibition. There were a lot of well-to-do city folk about, each with a turned up nose and a hissy whisper, their mannerisms screamed disapproval and I couldn't help but laugh at the people getting all worked up at a rather artistic rendition of a gentleman's pasty behind. 

"Did I, uh, make a mistake bringing you here?" Arthur asked me under his breath, but I turned the smile I was wearing to him and shook my head firmly. 

"Course not. I can handle a few breasts and backsides, Arthur. This is real different, in a good way!" I told him, strolling into the room, a flash of red, blue and yellow catching my eye immediately. My lips parted and I got up close to the painting of a woman barely concealed by the drapery of her undergarments. The vivid colours in the painting were beautiful and carefully balanced, and the brush strokes were rather blocky and gestural, but communicated her form and the seat she was situated in clearly. I hadn't seen art like it before.

"Ain't this something?" I said to Arthur as he stepped up beside me. He tilted his head at the painting, pursing his lips a little. 

"Sure, it's something. It's a woman with all her stuff hangin' out," he murmured and I scoffed, patting him on the arm. 

"Ain't this at all appealing to you? If not in an artistic sense, then purely based on the fact you're a strapping, hot-blooded man?" I quirked a brow playfully at him. He laughed at my wording. 

"Don't do much for me, I don't know the woman," he shrugged his shoulders, and his response surprised me. What interesting reasoning. 

"What if you did know her?" I asked curiously. 

"Depends who it was," he looked down at me, "if it was you it wouldn't be on the wall of a gallery," he snorted. 

"Where'd it be?"

"Back page of my journal, never leaving my side," he smirked, his tone playful as it fell low for my ears only. 

"Dirty dog," I quipped back, fully in jest, my cheeks aching from smiling and hot from the flush of blood rising there. 

I moved onto the next painting – a man wearing nothing but a hat, laying on his front – leaning in to study it only for a moment before a ruckus caught my attention beside me. Voices were being raised, outrage amongst the visitors, Charles standing in the middle of it all with a comically disinterested expression. People obviously weren't happy about the nudity on display. Especially since the woman in the painting we'd just been admiring apparently happened to be the wife of the guy raising all the commotion. A woman soon stepped between the painting and Arthur and I, spreading her arms to obscure it. 

"Stop lookin' at my husband's buttocks!" She crowed, and we stumbled backwards away from her with wide eyes. 

"Stop lookin' at my momma!" Another guy yelled. Arthur and I shared a glance; he looked as if he was trying not to laugh. 

"Well, maybe she shouldn't've exposed herself like that," the woman quipped back with a sneering, snooty little tone that irritated even me. 

"Says the woman whose husband's ass we've all been staring at," I whispered very quietly to Arthur, being careful that he was the only person who could hear. He cracked up, wheezing loudly and attracting a few looks, but they were all soon distracted. 

One man was throwing a punch at another. Charles was being battered to the ground by a handbag, wielded by another miserable looking woman with a face all puckered and flushed. Chaos was breaking out, and I watched on with wide eyes, backing into the corner out of harm's way. 

I personally couldn't see the harm in a few paintings like the ones on display, it was the human form, we all had some rendition of the same thing hidden under layers of clothing. If art couldn't celebrate our freest form, what could? Perhaps it was the colourful eroticism of some of his paintings that was making them recoil, the rawness of some of the nude figures as they lounged and twisted, showing every crease and curve not usually seen by eyes other than one's lover. I was taken by my own musings, gradually becoming more and more enamoured with Charles' work. I wondered what it'd be like to be drawn in my natural state. Perhaps not by Mr. Châtenay himself, but by someone…

My eyes flashed from a painting of a lady lounging backwards with no sense of shame, over to Arthur, who was helping Charles up to his feet and directing him away from the commotion. A gentleman went after him, only to be held back by a hand on his shoulder; one not appreciated. The gentleman, so outraged by nudity though not above petty violence, raised a fist to Arthur. He caught it, wrestling it away from him as I gasped. 

"Hey, calm yourself, friend," he said in a low and commanding voice woven with a thread of menace. 

"Don't tell me to calm myself while that sick pervert just stands there with that look on his damn face–" he yelled, spit flying, seething in a way I felt was disproportionate to what was actually going on. Charles was indeed standing there in the doorway as fights broke out before me, I edged away to join him, side stepping towards the archway, dumbfounded by the events unfolding as other women filtered out. 

With his wrists gripped tight by Arthur's hands, the man jammed a kick into his thigh. I stepped forwards as Arthur grunted in pain, wanting to do something to help. 

"Son of a– don't make me hit you in front of the lady," Arthur threatened through gritted teeth. 

A glob of spit was fired in his face and he didn't think twice, letting go of his wrists only to swing, laying the man out seemingly effortlessly. That's when the real chaos ensued. 

"Get out of here!" Arthur urged me, and I did as I was told, trotting out of the room as Charles took my elbow in his hand, briskly guiding me away from the messy display. 

"Hit him as much as you like, now the lady isn't watching!" Charles called over his shoulder, tittering to himself. 

"Charles!" I scolded, tugging my arm out of his grip and stopping by the stairs that led down to street level. 

"What? _Le branleur_ deserved it. None of those men stand a chance against him, do they? Big, impressive man your husband is," he said, his eyelids lowering.

"No, you're right about that," I sighed. "What a bunch of lunatics. Imagine getting so worked up over art!"

"Oh, but I think I have finally arrived. That was a memorable opening day, they're sure to be talking about my exhibition for years," he cheered. 

"Yeah, hopefully not 'cause of the body count. I hope he restrains himself," I frowned, looking over my shoulder into the gallery. Arthur appeared a few moments later, shaking his tender hand out. He looked to have fared quite well from the ordeal, sporting a slightly swollen lip and a couple of hairs out of place, and that was it. 

I sighed and took his hand in mine when he reached us, inspecting his red, blood speckled knuckles. 

"Let's get out of here," he said, altering the relation of our hands by entwining our fingers. 

"Yes, I know a place I can lie low!" Charles said, scampering down the stairs. Arthur and I followed close behind him, figuring it was best to accompany him before he got himself into any more trouble. 

"You're welcome, by the way, for dealing with that mess," Arthur grunted as we walked, "you artistic folk ain't too good at dealing with the public, huh?" He snorted. 

"The purpose of art is to provoke emotion, no?" Charles said, throwing a smirk over his shoulder as we left the gallery and crossed the street, heading down an alleyway. "Their emotions were too strong to be contained. It is not my job as the artist to police emotion. Only to bring it. I'd say I did my part tremendously."

"Yeah, you sure did your part," Arthur muttered, rolling his eyes. "I guess my part is stopping you from gettin' lynched."

"And you too, did your part tremendously. Merci, mon ami!" 

"Violent outbursts aside, I have to say I was rather impressed," I said, and Charles turned around with an impish grin on his face once we reached a door. 

"Perhaps you will want to pose for me after all?" He delighted, and I narrowed my eyes a little. 

"Perhaps not. I ain't quite ready to be the subject of people's horror, up on that gallery wall." 

"Shame. The world is not ready. One day they will see my art as something to celebrate, and not to detest. Maybe then I will seek you out, eh ma chérie?" He said, grasping my hand and lifting it to his mouth, getting away with brushing a kiss against my knuckle just before Arthur shoved his shoulder. 

"Get out of here," he grumbled, though his face betrayed his amusement. 

"I am going!" Charles exclaimed, turning and knocking on the door, slipping through as he called out to whoever was inside. 

Arthur shook his head, chuckling to himself as he turned and we started heading back towards the street. 

"That man," he breathed, "I told you he was an interesting character."

"That's putting it mildly," I smirked. 

"He liked you," he noted, sounding inwardly peeved.

"I liked that photograph of you," I steered the subject, falling into step with him once we were back out on the street. "You ever gonna tell me about that?"

Arthur's expression lifted and he shook his head mildly. "Ahh, I met this photographer. Albert Mason. Funny man, seems to always be tryin'a get himself eaten whenever I see him, by some animal or another. He took that photo of me, I thought he just wanted a test shot."

"You didn't know it was there?" I raised my brows. 

"Course not. I probably wouldn't've let him get away with it if I did," he chuckled, "clearly he didn't take me for someone who visits galleries all too often. I don't quite know why he'd display that."

"You wouldn't," I murmured, "but anyone else with a pair of eyes would. It's a lovely photograph."

"Was real embarrassed when I saw it," he admitted, laughing breathily. 

"You shouldn't be. Though… I think I would be if I was in your shoes, so I get it," I laughed. 

"If it was a photograph of you up there, Charles' exhibition would've flopped. Not that it was a roaring success as it was but you get the picture. Everyone'd just be lookin' at you."

"Are you flattering me again?" I smiled mischievously at him. Arthur didn't respond, just wore a satisfied smile and kept on looking ahead. I lowered my lids flirtatiously. "I do wonder, though, what if I wanted to pose nude for an _artist?_ " I said the final word with a playful, french flair. 

"Well that… that would be up to you, I suppose," he murmured, though he frowned, "but I know that man, didn't take me long to suss him out. He's after more than artistic expression." 

I raised my brows. "But he thinks we're married," I smirked a little at that, pointing it out indulgently.

"Trust me, that wouldn't stop him," he snorted. 

"Well then, I guess I'll just have to pose for some other artist," I shrugged, innocently clasping my hands behind my back, bringing a casual sway into my walk as I looked at him through the corner of my eye. 

He stared at me, his brows lowered in confusion, I could practically hear the cogs turning in his head, and I giggled. 

"Are you trying to make me jealous, or somethin'?" He eventually questioned, and I burst with a laugh. 

"No!" I exclaimed, searched our surroundings for listening ears, "I'm trying to flirt with you, you silly man." 

Arthur's eyes widened, a pretty pink hue creeping up his neck and to his cheeks. 

"You're an artist, ain't you?" I added.

"No," he snorted bluntly, and I shook my head at him. "Not like Charles Châtenay, I don't do paintings and whatnot."

"Yeah, but you draw. And you're damn good at it," I told him, taking his hand and turning to him, a flirty smile on my face, "I'd take my clothes off for you so you could practice your figure drawing, for sure."

"Saying those things in public? You're playin' a dangerous game, little lady," he hummed, wearing a big, amused grin on his face, darkened a little with desire. We turned a corner and found ourselves on a deserted street. I let go of his hand and skipped ahead a bit so I could turn around, walking backwards so I faced him. He strolled along after me, eyes appreciating my body.

"Dangerous, how?" I lilted, shimmying my skirt up to flash just a little bit of ankle. Arthur flushed darker, scrubbing at his face a little as he shook his head at my silliness. I dropped my skirt back into place and turned back around, staying ahead of him. 

I gasped in surprise when I suddenly felt his hands at my hips, and I was being pulled down the little alleyway between the nearest two buildings. 

"See, this is why I don't like cities," he began under his breath, his voice so deep and smooth and sweet like molasses. I stared at him with wide eyes, backed up against the wall. "If we were out in the wilderness, I could take you up on that, no problem."

His hand went to my chin, tilting my head up, from side to side a little so his eyes could study my entire face. He licked his lips and I closed my eyes, anticipating the warm press of his mouth; craving it. The air felt unnaturally cool when the contact never came, and eventually I opened my eyes to see his smirk. There was a ghost of arrogance there; it cropped up every now and then, always surprised me, though I liked to see it. He could do with the confidence, he was otherwise so unsure of himself. 

"Holding off on me?" I questioned, pouting. 

"If I kiss you, as tempting as that is, I fear I'll get carried away," he said, stroking my bottom lip with his thumb. 

"What if I ask nicely?"

"Ask as nicely as you want, pretty angel, but I ain't promising nothing," his tone was playful. 

"All I want is one kiss, Arthur, this is a date, after all," I dared, dipping my mouth to kiss the tip of his thumb. He made an involuntary sound.

"One kiss'll turn into two… three… God knows what else, the way you've got me feeling. Especially after seeing that Frenchman's eyes on you, got me feeling like I need to make the most of having you before someone comes along and takes you away from me."

"By all means make the most of it," I nodded eagerly and he gave a dirty chuckle. "But no one's taking me away, I'm yours."

"You're making this real hard for me," he breathed, eyes closing momentarily. He smirked at a private joke and I tilted my head.

"That's the idea. I'm trying to get my kiss," I teased, stroking my hands up and down his broad chest. His eyes dropped down to my hands briefly. 

"You could just take it for yourself, you know."

"You wouldn't try and stop me?"

"Find out," he dared. 

Of course, I didn't hesitate. I pressed my lips to his, hard, with embarrassingly little skill or restraint, immediately reining it in a little when he grunted in surprise (maybe even pain, with his swollen lip). My fingers crept up his body, into his hair, quickly letting go when I remembered he'd made the effort to pomade it. The kiss was a mess until Arthur responded, tilting his head and moving his lips with mine, helping me out. My experience – or lack thereof – certainly showed when he handed me the reins. Even so, it was easy to lose myself in the kiss. 

When he pulled away, I found myself voicing my desire without thinking. "God, I want you," I breathed, and my voice shook unexpectedly. 

"Perhaps we should get ourselves a room at the hotel, and I can give you what you want," he murmured, pressing his body firm against mine. I was turned on, feeling hot and pleasant between my legs, resisting the urge to rub against him like an animal. 

"Oh, pretty please," I nodded. 

"You're gonna kill me," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. "Or get me arrested, gettin' me hard in public so easy."

"Oh my," I sighed, arching forwards, feeling the proof of his words against my belly. "Your fault. You took me down this alleyway."

"Shit, I did, didn't I?" He mused. 

"Let's go to that hotel, have a little lie down together, hmm?" I said sweetly, and Arthur groaned quietly. His hips rolled forwards, grinding his erection against my belly once before he pushed away from me, a frustrated growl bubbling up his throat. I stayed pressed up against the wall, watching as his hand went between his legs, readjusting himself so the bulge there wasn't as obvious. 

"You're a menace. How can I walk the streets like this?" He questioned, though he seemed more amused than anything. 

"You want me to describe what I found in Uncle's union suit last time I washed it?" I asked, giving him a mischievous grin. He winced. 

"Christ no, the thought alone will be enough."

-

We headed to the hotel once Arthur was able to be seen in public, eager to check in and get behind closed doors. There was nobody at the front desk when we arrived, so we dinged the little bell and waited, standing side by side a good foot apart to avoid temptation. I was a bad influence, of course, because my hand found its way to his, delicately entwining our fingers. Arthur peered at me, brows soft, suddenly looking warm and sentimental at my touch.

Movement caught my eye over his shoulder, someone appearing in the doorway that led to the rooms. For a second I thought she was the clerk, but my brain sparked with recognition when I looked at her face. Arthur turned his head, following my gaze, and I heard his sharp inhale. 

"Arthur? You came!" Mary exclaimed, clearly shocked to see him. 

_Of course._ I immediately recalled her letter, the one Arthur had tossed into the fire; she was staying at this hotel. It hadn't occurred to me before, but I was faced with the realisation that Arthur had taken my virginity while she was probably in the same building, we just hadn't known at the time. My face immediately heated up.

"Oh, uh, hi Mary," Arthur said after a pause that was unnaturally long, "Hotel Grand, this is where you're staying."

"Yes, my letter said so," Mary said, her tone a little confused. I averted my eyes, tried to let go of Arthur's hand, he gripped onto me though, didn't let me separate our hands. The small act made my heart want to dance out of my rib cage. 

There was another awkward pause, and Mary looked at me. It took a moment, but she seemed to recognise me from the day I'd gone with Arthur to see her all those weeks ago. Her lips parted, she didn't know what to say for a moment, but she gathered herself quickly and reassembled her composed expression. 

"Oh, perhaps you didn't receive my letter. This must be a coincidence," she said, her laugh quite hollow. "What a small world we live in. I'm Mary, you must be the girl Arthur was with before. You were new to his… group, as I understand."

"Yes, I remember you," I nodded, smiling at her despite the fact that my heart was racing and I felt so nervous my hands were immediately clammy, "it's nice to meet you."

"You too," she nodded, returning my smile. Her eyes casually dropped to where Arthur and I's hands were connected, then she looked away awkwardly. "Well, I won't keep you. I was hoping I could ask a favour of you, Arthur, but I suppose this is a bad time."

"I, uh, I'm sorry, Mary. This is… no, I can't really– we are–" Arthur stammered, looking between the two of us. He was the human embodiment of a fish out of water, just struggling and panicking and suffocating right in front of us. I felt _awful_ for him. I squeezed his hand. 

"We've moved around some since the last time Arthur saw you, your letter must've gotten lost along the way somewhere. We had no idea you were here, I'm sorry for this awkward confusion," I stepped forward, chuckling and trying to lighten the atmosphere. 

"Oh, no, it was my mistake. I just assumed…" Mary shook her head, clasping her hands in front of her, fiddling with them. 

I shook my head dismissively and introduced myself properly with my name, letting go of Arthur's hand only to offer mine to Mary. She looked at it for a moment, then delicately shook it. 

"We're only in the city for a little while, just saw a show at the gallery. Real interesting painter, Charles Châtenay," I conversed, holding Arthur's hand again right away.

"Oh, I know Arthur has a creative streak, with that journal he keeps," she noted, nodding. "I always thought he could make something of himself if he poured more time into his artwork."

I looked at Arthur for his response to that, but he just stood there, mouth slightly open, and shrugged his shoulders. 

"Um, anyway, I should let you get on. Arthur, if I could ask you for one more favour… if you get the time, may I speak with you? It's about Daddy," she said, her brows arching sadly. Arthur released a breath a little harder than natural and shook his head.

"Mary, you know what I told you last time–" he began, but she spoke over him. 

"I know, but his drinking and his gambling has–" she stopped, shaking her head. I frowned, a sudden drop of sympathy manifesting for her. "Oh, Arthur. I know he was never kind to you."

"No, he wasn't. I'm sorry Mary, but I can't help you. I'm sure somebody else will, but I'm–" Arthur glanced at me, then sighed. "I'm moving on. Me and this lady here, we're trying to spend some time together. I'm… I'm real fond of her, and it'd be mighty improper of me to leave her to run an errand for someone else."

"No, you're right. I understand," Mary said, nodding her head. Her expression was difficult to read, her lips were pressed together in a tight line.

"I think it's best for the both of us if… if we let things lie."

"Of course," she nodded, not looking either of us in the eye. 

"Mary, I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, he sounded guilty, his expression was pained. I kept quiet and fiddled with the buttons on my jacket. 

"No, it's okay. You have your own problems to worry about, I understand that. I should've asked someone else," she sighed. "I don't know if this will mean much coming from me, but I'm happy for you."

"Oh, thank you, Mary," Arthur said, a little stunned. Mary looked at me for a moment before meeting Arthur's eyes again. 

"I'm glad you've found someone. I just hope she can give you what I couldn't. And I hope you do right by her, you're not–" she paused, looking down as she searched for the words. "You're not an easy man to love, Arthur." 

I recoiled a little at that. I figured she didn't mean that as harshly as it sounded, at least I hoped she didn't; I gave her the benefit of the doubt. Regardless, I begged to differ.

"Goodbye Arthur, Miss," she nodded to us both, then hurried away, out of the hotel before either of us could say anything else. 

We were left alone in silence for a while, the clerk nowhere to be found. Eventually, Arthur ran a hand over his face, released a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry, princess. I completely forgot that she was staying here. I wouldn't've come here if it had occurred to me," he said quietly, his voice almost devoid of emotion. 

"It's alright. I forgot too, and I suppose I'm glad to have met her, in a way," I shrugged, hugging his arm and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm– I'm fine. I just didn't expect to see her here, it sort of– God, I'm a fool. You had to do most of the talking, when it was my thing to deal with. I'm sorry I put that on you," he murmured, turning and leading me to sit down on the loveseat nearby. 

"You were shocked, understandably. And it was real awkward there for a while," I gave a small chuckle, then shook my head, "don't worry. I think you handled it okay."

"You don't mind that I told her about us?"

"Of course not."

"Do I… do I do right by you? Are you happy with your lot, the lot I give you?" He asked me out of nowhere and I stared him in the eye, completely taken aback. 

"Arthur, you've told me you'll leave the gang to run away with me after this job. You took me into the city that you hate just to take me to an exhibition you thought I'd like. You… you held onto my hand in front of Mary just now, which sounds silly but that made me feel so, so happy. Don't doubt yourself over me, things are crazy right now but I would never wanna go back to how things were before I knew you," I told him quietly, gripping his hand tightly and leaning close to him. 

"I just know what you deserve, and I'm worried I can't give it to you," he murmured, a frown etched seemingly permanently between his brows. 

"Oh, be quiet with that, Arthur," I sighed, holding his cheek and turning his head to look at me. "I hate it when you talk like that. You don't know how happy you make me." 

”I'm sorry. I guess Mary just summed it up, there, the thing I'm always thinking about."

"What's that?"

"That I ain't an easy man to…" he trailed off with a sigh, shaking his head. "I understand why."

"Arthur, I ain't struggling," I said, smiling sweetly. "Let's enjoy our day, hm?"

"Angel, you say the right thing every time you open your mouth, what I wouldn't give to have that skill," he gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head. 

"You're looking at me through rose-coloured glasses if that's what you think, just the other day I was telling everyone how much I _loved_ your fingers, remember that?" I rolled my eyes. 

"Of course," he smirked. "That was real cute."

"Cute? Good lord," I breathed, flushing and averting my eyes. Arthur grinned.

"Where the hell is the clerk? I wanna take you upstairs," he said abruptly, rising to his feet to ding the bell a few more times.


	42. Banking, The Old American Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, folks. The bank job.

The last time I saw Arthur at Shady Belle was right before they all left for the bank. He was dressed smartly in a white shirt and a nice jacket, a little pomade in his hair that made him look like some sort of prince charming; it was as if he was going to a special occasion. They all looked that way, the gang members going on the job, dressed in their Sunday best. Dutch, Hosea, John, Charles, Javier, Bill and Micah. Abigail too, she was helping out.

Arthur and I were pressed around the side of a wagon, the one occupied by Abigail and Hosea, readying to set off while everyone else got ready too, going over the final details of the plan, mounting up. Jet was nearby but Arthur was saying his goodbyes to me where no one could see us. He had my face cradled in his hands, his lips greedy against mine, full of fervid passion as I gripped the lapels of his jacket. He broke the kiss, pressed our foreheads together and stared into my eyes so close. 

Neither of us had to say anything, it all went unspoken. I begged him with my eyes to be safe and he told me to be ready with his own. 

Oh, I was ready. I had my suitcase packed and stored up in Arthur's room where he was all packed up too. We were ready to go, in theory, though the whole time I was fraught with a feeling of disbelief, or not necessarily disbelief, but oddly settled. Like it hadn't sunk in that I was going anywhere, and I didn't really think we would be. Perhaps because it seemed a little too good to be true, just running off into the sunset with Arthur, and I couldn't wrap my head around it. 

My gut feeling, it turned out, wasn't all for nothing. 

Abigail returned to camp first, riding in on a horse that wasn't one of ours, not stopping and dismounting, riding straight into the main camp where the rest of us were near the fire. 

"They got Hosea! I managed to get away but they took Hosea, arrested him or something, I don't know!" Her eyes were wide and she looked a dishevelled, terrified husk of the woman she'd left as that morning.

Abigail and Hosea were running the distraction part of the plan, creating some sort of diversion to attract the law away from the bank. It seemed their plan worked a little too well. At that point none of us knew how the others had gotten on, but Abigail told us about the swarms of lawmen that had responded; an unnatural amount, and any confidence I had that things could still go to plan dwindled. I pushed the doubt from my mind, I could not think about what could go wrong. 

The gang didn't seem to know what to do right away. It was like everyone was aching to turn to Dutch, who of course was not there. 

"Perhaps we should start packing," I spoke up while everyone was huddled together around Abigail, questioning, worrying, agonising. "If it's gone bad, I'm guessing when they get back they'll want to move right away."

"She's right. We might as well do something," Sadie agreed. Miss Grimshaw, who was surprisingly quiet, nodded. 

"Alright. Come on, everyone, you know the drill," she called out, and everyone got moving.

Arthur and I's things were already packed, so it was just a case of carrying it all downstairs and loading it up on a wagon. His satchel was still sitting on his bed where he'd left it that morning, his journal tucked away inside. I kept it aside for him, not wanting it to get lost or damaged on the wagon, and just loaded up the rest of his things. Lenny – who was now up on his feet again, though using a stick to help him walk – commented on how fast I'd packed. I just told him I'd had a lot of practice, and moved on to Pearson's wagon, packing up all our food. 

We had the camp packed up by evening time, and we all sat around the campfire and waited. Darkness had fallen and people were beginning to wonder if anyone was even going to come back; I assured them they were probably taking their time, not wanting to lead anyone back. Some believed me, others didn't. I wasn't even sure which side I was on.

Then Charles turned up. He rode in, looking exhausted and nothing like his usual calm, level-headed self.

"Charles!" Everyone exclaimed, getting up and rushing over to the man, offering him some of the venison we'd cooked over the fire for dinner. Charles shook his head, glancing between everyone there. It was like he didn't know who to address; who was in charge when Dutch and Hosea weren't around?

His eyes settled on Miss Grimshaw. "We need to get moving. That was a disaster, there are patrols all over the place. The others were going to try and get out of the city by boat, I'm here 'cause I diverted some of the Pinkertons so they could get away. Thought someone should come back and let you all know."

"By boat? What boat?" I questioned, thoughts going to Tahiti and Dutch's plan. 

"Whatever they could get, I don't know. The city is crawling, we hid in a building until nightfall, wanted to come back, but there was no way all of us were going to make it. We didn't have many options, I don't know what they're planning on doing next."

"Oh my God," Abigail breathed. Charles looked at her, his face shifting uncomfortably. My stomach dropped. 

"The Pinkertons captured John. Arrested him at the bank, I've never seen so many lawmen, it was unbelievable," he explained, and Abigail covered her mouth, no sound escaping her. "Miss Grimshaw, may I speak with you privately? There's something I– I don't know how to say it." He added.

"Of course," the lady in question nodded, her face a picture of shock and uncertainty. "Everyone, start thinking of where we could go. We can't stay here with these patrols."

The two of them walked away, went inside the house. I wondered what he was telling her that he couldn't just say in front of everyone. Whatever it was, it was unlikely to be good news. 

Nausea hit strong and sudden, and I swallowed the saliva that began to gather in my mouth, forced myself to ignore it and focus on the task at hand. "Right, so… any ideas? Do you think it would be possible to head back West? Maybe North-West?"

"Back where we came from? I don't know. Dutch doesn't usually like retracing his steps," Pearson said, sitting down on a log and raking his hands through his hair.

"Up north, then. Roanoke?" Karen suggested. 

"Would you really wanna go up there?" Tilly cocked a brow at her. 

"No, but maybe that's the point. We go some place even the law won't come looking," Karen countered, taking a swig from the bottle of beer she'd been nursing all evening. 

"There's a small settlement in the bayou," Strauss began thoughtfully, "rather unsavoury fellows living up there. But I'd wager they wouldn't look for us. Not right away, at least, perhaps it would give us a few days."

"Ain't too too far, we don't wanna be travelling for miles right now, the whole lot of us," Sadie noted, nodding her head slowly and considerately.

"It will need clearing out for certain, the place is called Lakay,” Strauss added. 

"I know it, ain't far from where I grew up," I said, eyes all turned to me. "You're right, nobody dared go there; we'd be pretty safe if we can take over."

Charles and a despondent looking Susan reemerged from the house and headed back towards us. 

"Seems like our best bet. We don't need anywhere too permanent, just somewhere to go while the dust settles and we figure out what's going on," Sadie said, turning to face Charles. "Charles, you got it in you to help me clear out a new camp, up at Lakay?"

"Of course," he nodded. Sadie then looked at me. 

"You know where this place is?" She asked, and I nodded. "Will you show us the way?"

"Uh, sure," I said hesitantly, and Charles looked at Sadie with a slightly cocked brow. 

"Hey, don't worry. I ain't gonna make you shoot nobody," she smirked, patting me on the arm. I released a relieved breath, somewhat of a laugh. "You can just hang back, warn us if anyone else turns up."

"Okay, that I can do," I nodded. 

"We'll ride ahead, deal with whoever's there," she addressed the rest of the group, "everyone else, finish off clearing this place. We'll come back, ride up with you all soon," Sadie said, then clapped Charles and I on the shoulder and started towards the horses. 

"Stay vigilant. There will be patrols, make sure nobody comes near the camp before we can all leave," Charles warned. I nodded in agreement. 

"Be careful," I called to them as we left. 

The three of us mounted up, and I took the lead as we trotted out of camp, soon speeding into a gallop.

"There's some strange people in the swamps," I called over my shoulder, "you two ought to be careful. We all do, once we're set up. We're bound to run into the night folk."

"Night folk?" Sadie asked, raspy tone sharpened with confusion. 

"That's what they call them. They are brutal. I saw things hanging in the trees that no kid ever should, growing up. They'll kill you if you give them the chance, and it won't be over quick," I explained. 

"And you think this is a good place to camp?" Charles addressed both of us incredulously. 

"They wouldn't bother with a huge group like us. We just need to make sure nobody wanders too far alone," I told him. 

"If you say so."

"I do. My family lived here, we survived, and we weren't a gang of heavily armed outlaws. We'll be okay," I glanced back, giving him a small smile. 

We rode into the bayou, fog coming in thick and opaque, the soggy air clinging. Beads of sweat and moisture from the air rolled down my spine, making me shiver, tickling like fingers but not in that nice way that Arthur's did… like unwelcome, cold fingers. I could swear the swamps were haunted, growing up. Still could as an adult. 

"Uh, listen, you two. I should tell you," Charles began, his voice low and careful. "I told Miss Grimshaw before, she said she'd tell the others, I couldn't quite bring myself to say it in front of everyone. I'm not… I'm not good with these things."

"What's wrong?" I asked, slowing a little, falling into step beside him, so the three of us were travelling abreast. 

"We… we lost Hosea," he told us softly, his face solemn, mouth turned down.

"What?" I gasped, saw Sadie's face shift into shock, "Abigail told us the law captured him."

"Yeah, they had him. But they– he–" Charles seemed to be struggling, clearly pained by having to deliver the news, "I'm sorry, there wasn't anything any of us could do, they overpowered us completely."

"Oh God," I breathed, my heart shattering. Not for my loss, but for Arthur's. I couldn't bear to think about how he must be feeling; Hosea meant a lot to him, and Hosea cared for Arthur like a son, far more than Dutch seemed to. 

"What an awful disaster that bank turned out to be," Sadie lamented, "though I'm starting to notice a pattern. Nothing seems to be going well lately."

"Right. We've made too much noise, angered too many people. I don't know about you two, but I'm starting to feel restless. I just can't relax anymore, even at camp. Especially not while the O'Driscolls keep showing up," Charles said, and I felt him looking at me. I kept my eyes on the road, silent. 

"We need to get far away, buy us some real time. But now ain't a good time, obviously, we gotta stick around for Arthur and the others," Sadie said, and my ears pricked up at his name. 

I noted how she'd said Arthur and the others, rather than the standard _Dutch_ and the others. Did she not see Dutch as the invincible leader that most of the others did?

"How're you holding up, honey?" She asked, and I looked up to confirm she was talking to _me_ in that soft, careful tone. "You've gone quiet."

Both sets of eyes were on me, and mine bounced back and forth between them as my mouth hung open wordlessly for a few moments. "I'm fine," I finally said, "we're almost there."

We rode the rest of the way in silence, listening to the mushy thumping of three sets of hooves on the compacted, damp Earth. I slowed further as we came up the road leading into Lakay, veering off to the side of the path. 

"It's just up this road. Don't, uh, mind the skulls on sticks over there," I gave an anxious laugh, and Sadie gave me a mild smile of amusement. "I'd go on foot from here, but please be careful."

The two of them dismounted, leading their horses to the side of the path, retrieving their guns from their saddles. Charles glanced up at me over his horse's back. 

"Get your gun out, stay armed and look after yourself," he told me and I nodded, retrieving the rifle from my saddle, readying it as I watched them turn and disappear up the path. 

There were a few moments of silence where I was left alone and in peace with my thoughts. Honestly, it was a few moments I could've done without, as it forced me to think of Arthur and the others. I hadn't really had time to feel since Charles had returned and explained the situation; but my feelings hit strong once I was free to think. In my stomach grew a sharp, thistly weed of dread; stabbing and cutting deep inside me. He'd gotten on a boat to God knows where. Even if he got to wherever he was going without the law realising, how would he ever get back? _Could_ he, even?

Part of me wished I was ballsy enough to be of use in something like a bank robbery, just so that I could've gone with them, just so I could know where he was, whether he was okay. Instead I was left behind; clueless and damn near useless, tagging along with the others and quickly beginning to worry that I was not cut out for life in this gang without Arthur in it too. 

Gunfire began. I gripped my rifle tighter and slid down off of Rayna, staring intently up the road to the settlement. I could see Sadie and Charles in cover behind dilapidated wooden structures, being shot at by far more people than was a fair match for the two of them. And I was just stood there watching.

_What in God's name am I doing here?_

I gnawed on my lip, ambled over to the cover of the trees nearby, getting behind the thickest with a good vantage point into Lakay, narrowing my eyes in a bid to better focus on what was happening. I saw bodies drop, Sadie and Charles working together to clear the place out despite such a vicious attack from the mean looking bunch living there. 

I thought I was going crazy when I saw someone behind Sadie, and raised my weapon to get a better look through the scope still fitted from the time I'd gone hunting with Arthur and Charles. I wasn't crazy. There was a guy crouched close to her, coming from behind where she couldn't see, knife poised. I went cold.

For a moment I waited for her to notice, secretly hoping she would, finding it so difficult to pull the trigger despite the circumstances. Did that make me a bad person? Hesitating to kill a person– a threat to the life of my friend? Or would killing make me a bad person, regardless of the reason? 

I didn't have time to answer these questions, the knife was drawn back, ready to be thrown, and I didn't think, I just fired. He dropped instantly, just like a deer or those bears. Gone. Sadie spun at the sound, eyes landing on the body before flickering up in my general direction, but she couldn't lose focus and was soon returning her attention to the people shooting at her. 

My heart was hammering, but I shifted my sights, seeking out dangers that Charles and Sadie might not be seeing. I hoped to God they would have it under control, I was far from accustomed to shooting people, even if those people were armed and shooting at those I cared about. It left me with a hollow feeling inside me, the kind of feeling that made me understand why Arthur was so desperate to stop me from having to do this. 

I soon realised that where the enemies had the advantage in numbers, Sadie and Charles had the element of surprise on their side; they were picking them off one by one, made it look easy. If they weren't my friends, I'd have been terrified of them. 

It was over quickly. In the end I didn't need to lend my assistance any further than that one guy, every time I sought someone out, thinking they might be a threat, they dropped in my sight from a bullet I didn't fire. They had it covered, and were soon out in the open, darting in and out of the buildings that made up the settlement, checking for hideouts. When they were satisfied the place was clear, Sadie started heading back towards me. 

She sent Charles' horse over to him with a pat on the flank, then addressed me with an intrigued look. 

"You saved my skin just then, didn't you?" 

"He was sneaking up, I just noticed him," I murmured as she mounted up. 

"Thanks, glad we brought you along," she smiled, "come on, mount up. Charles is gonna, uh, tidy up. I said we'd go get the others and bring 'em down."

"Sure," I said through a grunt as I lifted myself back up onto Rayna. She was a little antsy after all of the gunfire, but she was easily soothed with a few strokes of her mane. We started heading back the way we came, and it was the first time Sadie and I had ever really spoken one on one. 

"You're struggling there, ain't you?" She asked me after a few minutes of riding in silence, during which I felt her gaze flicking to me every now and then. I didn't meet her eyes. 

"It's a lot to take in," I simply responded. 

"It is. I ain't been here much longer than you. Just a couple weeks more," she pointed out, "I can't say I've made too many friends. Abigail, of course, and I get along with Arthur and John. But you; you get along with Arthur a helluva lot," she gave a little snort. 

"Yeah we're pretty close," I said drily, grossly understating it to Sadie's sympathetic smile. 

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I bet you're worried."

"I don't know whether I should be. I know he does this for a living, I've worried time and time again when he's been out working and he's always come back. I'm torn between telling myself he'll come back this time, just like usual, and preparing myself for him _not_ coming back," my words tumbled out emotionlessly and I stared ahead at the path. 

Sadie was quiet for some time, and when she spoke, her words were carefully selected. "When we get back to camp, we'll write a note. Something inconspicuous, so it ain't a disaster if the Pinkertons find it. But something that'll let Arthur and the others know where we are should they go back to the house."

_If_ they go back would've been too ambiguous, too pessimistic. _When_ they go back would've been setting hopes too high, risking a crushing disappointment if it never happened. _Should_ they go back was a nice middle ground. _To the house_ , well, that balanced things out even more, it suggested they could come back and not necessarily return to the house, like they had freedom to choose. Though it also didn't say for sure they'd return at all. It was a perfectly balanced sentence, one I could only nod my head to. 

When we arrived back at Shady Belle, everyone was packed up and ready to go. We made one final sweep of the house and I collected Arthur's satchel from where I'd left it to keep it safe, then we stood around the table as Sadie wrote the letter to _Tacitus Kilgore,_ explaining that his niece, _Caroline,_ had gone off to Lakay for a short trip.

With that done, and everyone feeling deflated and, frankly, scared, we all loaded up on our wagons and horses and rode to our new home.


	43. A Week Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader has to live with with Arthur’s absence, how’s she taking it? This chapter and the next few will focus on her relationship with other gang members. We chat with Molly in this one, I have never really written for her before so I hope I did okay. A little warning for a short scene of a suffering animal in this one!

A week passed quickly in Lakay. The first week in a new camp always did, everyone was so busy getting settled, setting up our temporary home, making sure everything had made the journey unscathed and in working order. What saddened me was the fact that we didn't even bother with any of the homey touches we had in other camps. Photos stayed tucked away, tables weren't put out so everyone ate on their laps or at whatever surface they could find within the numerous shacks, Arthur's bed… Arthur's bed stayed on the wagon. Miss Grimshaw said there wasn't room for it, and Arthur would have to sleep on the floor with the rest of us once he returned. But even so, it was a further reminder that he wasn't there.

A whole week without Arthur. It felt unbelievably wrong and as a rule, I tried not to think about it. When I did think about it, my mind turned down a dark and scary path, filling me with intrusive and ugly ideas of what had happened to him, so I distracted myself. In the daytime I helped cook, and when we were really desperate, I took on guard duty. It's funny, you kill two men and suddenly you're worthy of protecting the whole gang. I had little choice, without Dutch, Hosea, Arthur, John, Bill, Micah and Javier around, we needed everyone to up their responsibilities. I didn't like guard duty, but I made sure to do a thorough job and I took it very seriously. Luckily, nobody had set foot close to camp while I was on; I dreaded the day I had to use my gun again. 

But I would, if it meant keeping those I cared about safe. 

In the evenings I drew a lot, sitting in one of the shacks towards the back of camp, where the wall was painted with a lovely, gestural image of figures dancing around a fire. The expressive strokes reminded me of Charles Châtenay's work, and brought pleasant memories of Arthur and I's day spent together in Saint Denis. 

I was sitting on the ground in the middle of the room, my legs dangling down through the hatch that opened up to the space below the building, my sketchbook on my lap. I was working on a sketch, my only reference the crisp image in my memory of Arthur standing among trees, wrapped in a frame and hanging on a wall in Saint Denis' gallery. He'd looked so handsome in that photograph, part of me wanted to go back to the gallery, seek out that photographer and purchase a print for myself. I wasn't sure when I was going to see Arthur again and I longed to have something far better than my drawings to keep his image fresh in my mind. 

The door behind me opened, and I twisted to look. Every time someone entered a room my heart would skip with hope, longing for it to be him. When a flash of vibrant red hair appeared in the doorway, I was surprised. 

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise anyone was in here," Molly said, backing out. 

"You can come in. Plenty of room in here for both of us," I smiled before she closed the door, and she hesitated for a moment before finally slipping inside and shutting the door behind her. "How're you doing?" I asked. 

She ambled inside, eyes drawn to the painting on the wall. She approached it, her hands and fingers wrestling themselves. "I'm alright. Things are too cramped over there," she gestured briefly to the other shack where most people congregated. I nodded in understanding, it was why I avoided it until bedtime. "Can barely hear myself think. Mr. Pearson and Mrs. Adler are bickering again."

"Really? I guess the close quarters are getting to people already," I sighed sadly, looking back down at my drawing and shading the folds in Arthur's jacket. 

"And Karen's drunk again," she added, her tone quite harsh. I didn't know what to say to that. Karen certainly had been hitting the bottle a lot lately. "What're you drawing?" Molly asked, and my face quickly heated up. 

"Oh, it's…" I trailed off, deciding to simply show her. 

Molly came and sat down beside me, taking the sketchbook from me. I saw her painted lips curve just a little. 

"This is good, you know," she told me. 

"Thank you."

"D'ya miss him?" She asked, not looking up at me. In the resulting silence, she nodded, "course you do." 

"And how are you holding up?" I gently inquired. 

"You're the first person to ask me that," she breathed a dry laugh, handing my sketchbook over. "I suppose you and I, we're in a similar situation."

"I suppose," I nodded after a moment to consider.

"Well, I don't know how I'm doing. I thought I'd be in bits but in reality I don't feel much at all," she admitted, stating it matter-of-factly with very little fanfare. "I miss him, sure. But to be honest, I was missing him long before that bank job."

I met her eyes, and she must've seen something in mine because she chuckled. 

"Don't look so surprised. I know the whole camp has heard us arguing. I know they all talk about us– me, thinking I'm some kind of moron," she said, words coming fast, I got lost in the rhythm of her Irish accent. I had never heard Molly talk so much and I realised I could listen to her for hours, no matter what she said, with that voice.

"I don't think you're a moron," I told her, shrugging. "I think you love someone who has far too much on his plate to give you the right amount of attention."

"Dutch never used to be this way, ignoring me for days on end, barely looking at me, let alone touching me," she told me softly, and I closed my sketchbook, putting it aside and giving her my undivided attention. "In the beginning, he was lovely. He was perfect. Otherwise I never would've agreed to join his gang, no offense to anyone, but I'm hardly the kinda girl who's built for living in the middle of a swamp without access to regular baths." 

"No offense, but it's evident," I smiled in good humour, looking at the clothes she was wearing. Far, far richer than anyone else's. She laughed quietly then leaned her head against her hand. 

"You know, I came to America because I was bored. Thought I'd find something new and exciting, and I did. But the novelty wore off eventually, and now I can't help but…" she paused for a while, her tongue wriggling along her bottom lip as she considered her words, "I sorta miss home."

"You ever thought about going back?"

"In the last few weeks? All the time," she nodded. That surprised me, and my brows raised. "It's been a real shoddy couple'a months for me," she added. 

"I'm sorry," I told her quietly. 

"I even looked into how I would go about travelling back home. There is a boat from Saint Denis, I could go back to Ireland from there," she told me, leaning to peer down the hole in the floor briefly. "It's a long trip. Bloody awful. I gave up on the idea initially, but now this has happened."

"You don't want to wait for Dutch to get back?"

"I might be waiting a long time," she said bluntly, darkly. My heart hurt. "But even if he made it back, I can't see him runnin' into my arms and everything being hunky dory."

"You've gotta do what's best for you. What you think will make you happy," I told her. 

"Yeah, well, truthfully I don't think I can take any more heartbreak," she said, toying with the golden pendant hanging around her neck.

I watched her quietly, waiting for her to go on. She released a tight yet shaky sigh. 

"The thing is, if he never came back– well then, that's one thing I'd have to deal with. But if he came back and everything was just the same as it has been, and he walks through that door and doesn't even look me in the eye, well… I think that might be worse," she explained, head nodding slowly, agreeing with herself.

"What if he does come back and run straight to you?" I challenged her, and she laughed. 

"Do you see that happening?" 

"I don't know," I shrugged, "I'm asking you."

"Well, I don't think it would. But if it did," she began, sighing and gnawing on her bottom lip for a moment, "it'd only be a matter of time before he got bored of me again." 

That hurt. It hurt her to say it, I could see it on her face, but it also hurt to listen to. 

"You wanna hear what I think? Feel free to tell me to shut up," I offered, and she looked at me, her brows arched a little in interest. 

"I'm all ears," she said. 

"Molly, I've barely spoken to you. Barely know you," I prefaced, leaning back on my palms, "but you're telling me you're having all these doubts, you're considering leaving the country, you felt as though you missed him while he was still around. It sounds to me like… like you know already if you and him are meant to be, and you've just gotta admit it to yourself." 

Molly didn't even flinch at my words, didn't seem surprised at all. I thought back to the time she'd come up in conversation with Arthur, and he'd told me Dutch had a way of treating his women that wasn't always fair. He was quick to replace. I could've tagged onto the end that I thought she should ditch him and run, find someone who would give her the time of day. But I didn't.

"Alright," she nodded, her gaze dropping to my lap distractedly. "You know, I've always been a little bit envious of you." 

"Me?" I quirked a brow.

"Because of Arthur," she told me, and I felt a surprising flair of possessiveness pass over me before I battered it down and listened to what she had to say about him, "the way that man looks at you," she shook her head, lips curling into a smile that flashed her top teeth. "I've watched you pair together, and he's lovely to you. He always listens to you, looks at you when you're speaking. There's plenty of other things, but that alone. Do you know how lucky you are?"

"Yes, I do," I nodded. She met my eyes at that. 

"When a man shows you he loves you in the little things…" she began, letting the sentence taper off. She sighed. "You're just lucky. What I wouldn't give to have that with Dutch. Or with anyone."

"You deserve it, Molly. I think everyone does."

"I think so too. And hey, do you want to hear what I think? About you and Arthur?" She asked. 

"Okay," I said hesitantly. 

"If he ever makes it back here, you grab him with both bloody hands and get the hell away from here," she said with a straight face. I was silent for a moment, then shook my head, frowning. 

"Ain't as simple as that."

"That makes it sound like you've tried."

"Not quite," I breathed, smiling in mild amusement. I chose not to tell her about our plans of running after the bank job. A plan I had no idea about the status of, whether it still had any chance of happening.

"You don't think he'd leave if you asked him to?" She queried. 

"No, I think he would," I said honestly. If I really asked him to, pleaded with him… Arthur would. Deep down I knew that, so concerned with doing right by me he was. "But for me to ask that of him, just like that–" I clicked my fingers and shook my head– "I couldn't. This is his family."

It was part of the reason I felt so strange about our plan in the first place. At least it was his idea, at least it came with the condition that he'd see to it that those he cared about were provided for and able to live peacefully. Still, it was all too ideal. 

"I'd call you a fool, but I understand," Molly said quietly. "Either way, if he comes back, don't ever let him go. When you find love, and I can see just by lookin' at you that you do love him, you gotta do your damnedest not to let this cruel world take it away from you."

I looked her in the eyes, her very pretty green eyes, and nodded. 

"I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than I want him to come back home," I said quietly. I had to not think too hard about the words I was hearing and speaking, otherwise I would get too emotional. I'd been trying so hard all week to keep my emotions under control, and the bulk of my tactic was just not talking about it. But it felt good to let a small token of my feelings out. 

Unexpectedly, Molly wrapped her arms around me. I stiffened in her embrace, eyes going wide, but after a moment I softened and returned the hug. It went on for longer than expected, and the way she clung to me told me that she needed it more than I did, so I didn't try to pull away until she did. 

"Do me a favour and don't tell anyone I've been thinking about going back to Ireland. They already think I'm awful, I don't need to hear 'em all whispering about that too," she said stiffly after backing off. 

"I won't," I smiled at her, one she returned. "And you're not awful. I'm glad we spoke… I'm sorry I've never made the effort before."

"It's alright. It's a two way street, I'm half to blame," she shrugged in a very dainty way and clasped her hands together in her lap, looking down the hatch in the floor again a little sheepishly. 

The door opened for a second time, and the two of us looked up. Charles stood in the doorway, glanced between the two of us, silently assessing the mood. That was a requirement these days. You never knew if you were going to walk in on someone crying or arguing or having a private, heartfelt conversation.

"My secret spot ain't so secret now," I said playfully. 

"I'm sorry for intruding," Charles said, and I shook my head. 

"You're okay. They ain't started killing each other in there yet, have they?" I asked. 

"Just got off guard duty. Swapped with Lenny, then walked immediately away from that place," Charles entered the room, shutting the door. I did a double take when I saw him properly. I was still getting used to his new hairstyle, shaved at the sides and braided down the middle, hanging way down his back. 

"I haven't heard any yelling, can't be that bad, surely?"

"It's worse. Nobody's speaking," he said, dragging a chair over from the corner and sitting himself down nearby. "And that's coming from me. I like the quiet, but not when it comes with a side of glares and awkwardness." 

"I'm hoping it's just because of the move, and because everyone is stressed out right now. This really ain't an ideal time for fallings out," I murmured, scratching an insect bite on my arm irritably. 

"You're right," Charles nodded, "how're you two doing?"

"Sick an' tired of this dump, but other than that," Molly replied drily. 

"Well, hopefully it won't be for too long," Charles assured her, then looked at me, his eyes attentive and sincere, waiting for my response. 

"I'm fine," I nodded. 

"I was thinking you and I could go hunting tomorrow. We're running low on food," he suggested. "That's if you're feeling up to it."

"Of course I'm up to it," I nodded, "actually that sounds real good, getting out of here for a while."

"Alright, we can head up north. Bring back a couple of deer. Maybe people won't be so angry with their bellies full."

-

Charles and I headed out first thing in the morning, riding our horses up through Bluewater Marsh and out onto dryer grounds, heading towards Van Horn. We had ridden up mostly in silence, neither of us feeling the need to speak; Charles was quiet, always was, I tended to be about as vocal as whoever I was with, so I didn't say much either. I left it to him to decide how much he wanted to speak, and he seemed content with the occasional remark about how far we had to go, or a warning about a change in the terrain.

We didn't have to stray too far to get to where we could find deer tracks. That was the useful thing about deer, they seemed to live damn near everywhere. Charles spotted them, slowing down. We followed them a short way on horseback, closing some of the distance until we decided we'd be better off on foot to avoid scaring them off. We took our bows and quivers, hitching the horses up on a solid tree; one that didn't look as brittle and dead as some of the others in the area. 

We followed the deer tracks, light on our feet, quiet. I hadn't been hunting in a couple of weeks and I realised how much I missed it once I was back in the mindset. That silent, focused, peacefulness that came over me once the game was in range, when all I had to focus on was the tracks in the mud and the sounds around me, always waiting for a target. Being with Charles also helped, he was quiet, yes, but also a calming presence. I'd always thought that of him. 

"If we come across a group of them, we can time our arrows right and down a pair right away, get this thing done," he said to me, his voice a low hum under his breath, but strong, never having to fight with the noises around him to be heard. I nodded my head. 

We crouched, the tracks looking fresher, with some scattered droppings for us to avoid stepping in. We came up upon the peak of an incline, allowing us to see the lower ground ahead. There were the deer, a group of them, a mix of does and bucks. Charles' eyes slipped to mine briefly, then the two of us readied an arrow, lifted our bows.

"I'm going for the far left," he whispered, and I nodded. I went for the buck on the far right to completely avoid going for the same one. "Do you want to count?" He asked, and I nodded again. 

I drew the arrow back, taking aim, seeing Charles do the same in my peripheral vision. 

"On three. One… two…" I took a steadying breath between each count, emptying my lungs a final time before– "three."

Two arrows pierced through the air, sailing almost perfectly in sync, hitting our targets almost simultaneously. Charles' went through the head, killing it cleanly. Mine went through the neck, not quite killing it; the poor thing wailed, dropping to the floor, struggling. A piece of ice cold guilt shattered inside my heart, sending painful shards to every limb. 

"Shit," I hissed, standing upright as the other deer scattered, drawing another arrow, shaking as I fired it, missing completely. The poor animal sounded as though it was crying, agonised mewls, it's legs kicking harshly. I took another arrow out, ready to fire it, but I felt my eyes growing wet and I could barely see! I cursed under my breath again, blinking away my tears and trying to calm my breaths, otherwise I'd never hit it–

The cries of the animal stopped suddenly, and I looked at Charles as he lowered his bow, slinging it over his shoulder as he stared at the deer, making certain it was out of its misery. 

I stared at him with parted lips then slumped to the ground, sitting down on my backside and dropping my head into my hands. I felt his hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle pat. 

"It's okay," he told me, and I shook my head, "it happens."

"Thanks for doing that," I sighed. 

"Are you okay?" He asked me. 

"Yeah, I'm fine," I told him, lifting my head and pushing myself up to my feet, sniffing and blinking my eyes dry. I made for the deer. 

"So you keep saying," Charles noted, following me down the gentle hill, "it's okay if you're not."

"I have to be fine, I'd be useless if I wasn't," I exhaled a hollow laugh. 

"You've never been useless," he assured me. We reached the deer and he tossed his over his shoulder with ease. I did the same, with a lot less ease and plenty of struggle, but I managed to get the thing balanced on my shoulder, despite being far smaller than Charles. 

"You've been real quiet this week. Not that you don't have good reason to be, I just hope you're not too in your head with everything that's been going on," he said as we walked back to the horses. 

"I'm extremely in my head with it," I admitted, feeling him staring at me, "but I don't quite think I'm ready to speak about it."

"That's okay. Just know that nobody expects you to keep things bottled up. You can speak to any of us," he told me, and I felt a lump form in my throat. _Damn it Charles, being so nice._

"Thank you. The same is offered to you, of course. Anyone asked how you're doing?"

"Here and there," he nodded, "haven't really spoken much about it."

We reached the horses and hoisted the deer onto their backs, securing them with rope. I took a second to catch my breath, then looked at him over the top of Rayna's back.

"Must be a lot. People have started looking to you and Sadie for leadership, that's not something you originally signed up for, I'm sure."

"She's a lot better at it than I am," he said, a flash of teeth appeared with his smile. 

"You're doing alright, if you ask me."

"Sure," he laughed. The two of us mounted up. "This is all just crazy. Things are kind of a blur right now."

"Right," I agreed, nodding. 

"But with any luck, the others will get back to us. Then we'll be able to make some decisions. It's difficult right now, we're sitting ducks where we are, but we aren't really in a position to go anywhere. If the others come back, we need to be here, ready for them," he sighed. We started riding, slowly, in the opposite of a hurry to get back to Lakay.

"Do you think they're coming back?" I asked him. 

"I don't know," he told me truthfully, his tone low and drained, "I damn well hope so."

"I want to be optimistic, but I also don't want to build my hopes up," I admitted, and he hummed in acknowledgement. 

"I know. Part of me wants to tell you to expect the worst, then you can only be pleasantly surprised. I don't think that's a very nice piece of advice, though," he said, and I laughed despite the topic. 

"It's sound advice, but yeah, upsetting," I smirked at him.

"If it's any consolation, if Arthur can come back, he will. If I know him, he won't stop at much to get back here. He worries about this gang, cares a lot," he said, and I nodded slowly, picturing his face the way it crumpled into barely hidden hurt every time something bad happened. Like Sean dying, or Jack going missing, or me getting attacked by an O'Driscoll. 

"Yeah, you're right."

"And now it isn't just the gang he's thinking about," he looked at me, "Arthur really… I can tell you mean a lot to him."

"Yeah?" I met his eyes and he nodded. 

"When I split off from the group after that bank job, he seemed torn. I think he wanted to come with me, but if the law got wind of the fact that it was him running… he's got a way higher price on his head than me. He wouldn't have made it back through the city the way I came. He knew that."

"God," I closed my eyes, "it must've been awful for you. Charles, you're real brave."

"Someone had to come and tell you guys," he said quietly, staring ahead, "and let's face it, I got out of there. I'm the lucky one."

"Don't be so humble. What you did took guts, and you did it for us. Thank you, Charles," I told him, still looking at him, noting a distant sadness in his eyes. 

"I just… I hope they're okay. Arthur, especially. He puts up plenty of fronts but he's a good man."

"You're worried about him," I said, my heart aching. Of course, I'd been swept up in my own concern, I was too distracted to think about how he might feel. He and Arthur were friends. 

"Who isn't?" He murmured, "he's a good friend. If he never made it back, I'd miss him," he nodded. 

"Yeah, me too," I sighed, stating the painfully obvious. "What about Dutch?"

"Dutch. He helped me, took me in, fed me, gave me something I guess I could call a purpose. He saw my potential, my worth; but he saw my worth as a criminal. That's what he does," he said with a long exhale, "if he never came back, I'd miss his leadership, I think. But only for a while. Someone else would step up, just like Sadie has."

"Is Dutch your friend?"

"No, I don't think he is," he looked over at me, a serious expression wearing a crease between his brows, "it's not a personal thing, or that I don't like him. I just feel there has always been a wall between us. Between him and most people, I guess. Like he's our boss, the authority figure that… well, that Dutch claims to despise."

I looked down, frowning slightly as I considered his words. I'd never thought of it like that, but I felt as though he had a point. In the beginning I'd felt an urge to please Dutch, preening whenever someone told me I had, feeling dread when I feared I hadn't. He was like a boss, in that sense. Of course, those feelings blew away as soon as I'd started losing respect for some of the decisions he'd been making, and when he'd started treating Arthur and I's relationship with contempt. Now I didn't particularly care what he thought of me.

"I get it," I nodded. "He is like a boss. I catch him treating Arthur like he's gotta be working twenty-four-seven."

"Yeah? That doesn't surprise me."

"Mm. Has him thinking he needs to set the example. I bet it puts pressure on him."

"That man never took a break before you came along. Would be like pulling teeth just getting him to sit down by the fire in the evening. It's done him some good, having you, it's given him a reason to slack off every now and then," he smiled at me.

"I think that's why Dutch doesn't like me," I snorted. "He burst into Arthur's room one morning without knocking," I began unthinkingly, then felt a pang of embarrassment as I realised where it was going. 

Charles was looking at me expectantly. 

"Well, he got angry with Arthur about the fact he wasn't doing anything productive."

"Right," Charles said, a smirk on his face from badly concealed amusement. I shook my head and smiled. He was plenty capable of coming to his own conclusion no matter how I phrased it. 

"Little things like that. Making a big deal over Saint Denis. It just seems like he doesn't want Arthur doing anything for himself, like he's worried it'll let down the gang," I added.

"You really see it like that?" He asked. 

I shrugged. "I don't know how else to see it."

"I can't pretend I don't see your point," he was hesitant to say, "maybe he thinks Arthur will decide he cares more about making a life with you than he does following Dutch. Maybe he's worried he'll leave." 

I kept my mouth shut, directing my eyes straight ahead.

"Which, for the record," Charles continued quietly, "I don't think would be a bad thing."

"Really?" I swivelled to look at him. 

"Well, yeah, this life isn't exactly sustainable. We can't keep robbing banks and trains and stagecoaches for a living; the world's changing. If Arthur finds his place in the world by your side, he'd be a fool to deny himself that over something that stopped working a long time ago." 

I pressed my lips together, aching to tell him about our plan, but too nervous to do so. Instead, I deflected the attention to him. "Where do you think your place in the world is, Charles?"

"I don't know. Never have known. I floated around on my own for a long time before I met Dutch. I joined 'cause I thought this might be it. Turns out, it probably isn't." 

"I think you'll find it eventually. You have a place, just like anybody else."

He made a humming sound, neither agreeing or disagreeing, merely acknowledging. "So, your place; you think it's next to Arthur?" He asked. 

I thought for a moment. "I would like it to be." 

He looked at me, nodded and passed a small, easy smile my way.


	44. Saint Denis Times Tribune

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be a little sad for some of you, Hosea gets laid to rest. Then we read something disturbing in the newspaper that threatens to throw reader into despair.

Digging a hole in the ground in a quiet spot outside Bluewater Marsh with Reverend Swanson brought back a few unpleasant memories. My brother and I had done it twice over not far from our very spot years ago, hammered two crosses into the ground, said a few words. This time it was for Hosea. We'd picked the spot with the small gathering of people who had decided to come, most of the gang was present, aside from the obvious missing folk, some who had volunteered to stay back at camp to protect it, and a few who admitted they couldn't handle being there. Charles and Abigail were in Saint Denis, retrieving Hosea's body from the mortuary. We wanted to give him a burial that meant something, not what the state would've provided; probably an unmarked grave somewhere we'd never find out about. If it meant turning to crime, breaking in to give Hosea what he deserved, we'd do it. 

It had been Abigail's suggestion. She was taking it hard; Hosea, I realised, was a father to her just as much as he was to Arthur. Tilly, as well, she had been withdrawn and quiet since we'd found out, and she was nearby picking flowers to lay.

When the grave was prepared, the group stood around it and waited wordlessly. The mood was solemn and painful, the air unnaturally still, quiet. It was a short while before hoof beats and the rattle and creak of wagon wheels on uneven terrain sounded Abigail and Charles' return. Hosea was in the back, a white sheet blanketing him. As soon as I laid eyes on him, I felt my throat grow tight with the urge to cry. I held back, knowing I had far less reason to shed a tear than any of the people around me. 

I averted my eyes when Charles and Swanson worked together to lift the body, carried it over and carefully lowered it into the grave. Abigail joined me and Tilly, sliding in between us and taking Tilly's hand, then mine. I gave hers a silent squeeze of support. 

They adjusted the blanket, made sure he was carefully covered and comfortably positioned in his final resting place. Then Charles stepped back, stopping beside me. Everyone gathered in a circle around the grave, pressed shoulder to shoulder, Swanson standing at the head; he retrieved a Bible from inside his coat. 

"It's been a difficult few weeks," Swanson began, "it's never easy, losing a comrade. But I think all of us can agree Hosea was far more than that. He was a friend. A saviour. And to many of you, I know he was more a father. He was certainly the voice of reason and goodness among us."

Heads nodded. Shaky breaths could be heard and I didn't dare look up to see who was crying, I knew I would join them. 

"I'd like to read a few words from my Bible, if that's okay?" He continued, and when nobody protested, he took a breath and looked down at Hosea. "But first, would anyone else like to say anything?" 

Abigail let go of my hand to raise hers in the air, and all eyes turned to her. 

"He really was like a father, weren't he?" She said, a ray of happiness in her choked up tone, "I always felt that. When the gang took me in I– Hosea always looked out for me. He was so kind to me, to everybody. It hurts so much that all those people see when they look at us is monsters, and they can just do this– I wish I'd done more that day to try and– I can't do nothing now. I just hope he knows I love him, wherever he is."

I stroked her back, my tears welling over silently. 

"Ain't nothing anybody could've done. Hosea would know that, we all do. And I wanna say that I love him too, one of the greatest men I've known," Tilly said, stepping forwards and kneeling down. She reached over and placed a small bundle of flowers on his chest. "He always had a wise word for anyone, a little bit of hope and care when things seemed like they were falling apart. I'll miss him, painfully."

"We all will," Susan nodded, her voice betraying her grief despite her ability to hold back the tears so clearly aching to come out. Everyone nodded in agreement, and there was silence for a few moments followed by the flipping of pages. I looked to Swanson as he opened up his Bible, parting the pages to the one he'd marked with the ribbon that was attached to the spine. 

Swanson cleared his throat, his tired eyes focusing on the page. He'd changed a lot from the man I first became familiar with; before, he was almost always drunk or uncomfortably out of it, but since the move to Lakay, he seemed to be doing better. At least some good had come out of the awful circumstances. It was just sad that everyone else had gone the other way.

"Those who walk uprightly enter into peace; they find rest as they lie in death," Reverend Swanson read from the Bible, uttering each word slowly and clearly, then paused and looked up at us all, "I believe Hosea was a good man. Perhaps not in the eyes of the law, as Miss Roberts said, but at heart. He took in those that needed help, gave those of us who had been chewed up and spat out by the world another chance at finding a family. And he did so, never from a place of judgement,

"With his sickness, and the difficulties of the recent months, we must take solace in the knowledge that he is at peace now. And he is with his darling Bessie," he said, and a few nodded, small smiles appearing on their faces. "Perhaps you would all like to join me in a prayer?" 

I brought my hands together, clasping them at my heart and bowing my head. 

"Almighty God, you love everything you have made and judge us with infinite mercy and justice. We rejoice in your promises of pardon, joy and peace to all those who love you. In your mercy turn the darkness of death into the dawn of new life, and the sorrow of parting into the joy of heaven; through our Saviour Jesus Christ, who died, rose again, and lives forever more," Reverend recited, head bowed, eyes closed, "amen."

"Amen," was murmured among the group, some spoke with more conviction than others, varying degrees of fraught emotion. 

Soon, Charles and Mr. Pearson were stepping forwards to bury Hosea. They carefully blanketed him in the soil, laying layer after layer ever so gently, as if tucking him up in bed for his eternal sleep.

-

I rode back to camp on the back of Charles' horse, Taima, everyone else making their own way back. We attempted to split the group a bit, drawing less attention in case any law were around. He stopped next to Rayna, and held my hand as I slid down to my feet. 

"That was lovely," I said as he remained on his horse, and he nodded. 

"I'm relieved we could do that. He deserved to be laid to rest by those he cared about and who cared for him," he said.

"Hosea was always very kind to me," I recalled the way he'd comforted me when Arthur had gone missing as I spoke. "I wish Arthur could've been there today."

Charles nodded sadly, and there was a pause, I realised he still hadn't dismounted. 

"I'm sorry, I won't keep you, are you off somewhere?"

"I met with Rains Fall the other day. Things are bad up at the reservation, I was heading over there to help out," he explained. 

"Arthur mentioned that name to me a while ago," I recalled. "It ain't right what's happening to them. Is there anything I can do?" 

"Not right now. Things are tense, the army is involved. I think it might be safer for you to not get involved right now," he told me, and I nodded in understanding. 

"Okay, Charles. You take care," I said, giving his horse a gentle pat on the neck. 

"I will. I'll see you later," he nodded to me, then tugged on the reins, turning Taima and heading back the way he came. I watched him disappear down the tracks, picking up speed, then looked back at Rayna. 

I approached her, pulling my brush from my saddle and tending to her mane, running the bristles through. It wasn't tangled at all, someone had been seeing to her. Her coat was also clean, brushed thoroughly. I continue to brush her mane anyway, as a means of spending some time with her. I needed a little love from her. 

"How're you doing, girl?" I asked under my breath, stroking my free hand up and down the bridge of her nose. I raised onto tip-toes and kissed her face. 

A sharp huff through a pair of nostrils caught my attention, and I looked up to see Jet on the other side of the hitching post. He was standing still with his head bowed. He hadn't been ridden in a couple of weeks, of course, but he'd been well looked after by the likes of Kieran. The men's horses had managed to make their way back to Shady Belle before we left for Lakay, and it was a relief that we hadn't lost any. 

I felt quite emotional looking at Arthur's horse. I wondered if Jet missed him. It looked like he did, with the way his eyes were glumly stuck to the ground, but that could've been me projecting my own human emotions onto him. Either way, I approached him, stroking his neck and his face, giving him some sweetness. He pushed his face into my touch and flicked his tail, and I smiled. 

"I'm sure he misses you too," I sighed, reaching into my satchel to retrieve an apple, lifting it up to his mouth. Rayna perked up, nudging her nose into Jet's space as she tried to snag the treat for herself. "Not for you!" I laughed, ensuring Jet ate it up. 

"Hey, Miss, you alright? How was the, uh…" Kieran's once small, now more self assured voice came from behind me. 

"Hi Kieran," I smiled, turning to face him, "it was nice."

"Oh, good," he nodded, then looked down, drawing attention to the thing in his hands. "I hope this ain't too presumptuous of me, but I made you something. Well, for your horse."

"Oh?" I looked down at the object. It looked like a piece of shredded up rag, and essentially that was all it was. 

"I noticed she's docked? Ain't got much tail left," he began, pointing and walking around to the back of her. I followed him. It was true, she had a little hair but it didn't grow very long.

"Unfortunately so. I bought her like that," I nodded. 

"I figured it's so buggy 'round here, she'd like a little help keeping the flies off. Made this to add to her tail, it ain't very pretty but it should work."

"Oh, thank you, Kieran. That's very thoughtful," I smiled, gesturing with my hand to give him permission to attach the thing. 

He took some strips and bundled them with the hair around her tail, braiding them into it securely before tying it off where her natural hair ended. She was left with a tail that was braided at the top, from which dangled strips of fabric, just as long as any other horse's tail. Nifty. 

"That looks pretty good! I think she'll like that," I beamed, patting Kieran's shoulder appreciatively. "Thank you for all the work you put into these horses. They're lucky to have you. As is the gang." 

"If it's my way of bein' useful, I'll take it. I like being around the horses," he explained, watching as Rayna discovered her new tail, flipping it around. It'd do nicely to dust the flies away. 

"I'm pleased you've found your place here, it's good to feel useful, ain't it?"

"It sure is. Especially since I feel I've got a lot to prove. Maybe I ain't raking in cash for the box, but these horses are invaluable. Think of how much we use 'em, they gotta be looked after well," he said strolling over to Jet, brushing down a patch of ruffled fur on his flank with his hand. 

"Exactly," I agreed. "And I'm sure the boys'll appreciate you keeping their horses happy while they're gone."

Kieran nodded slowly, going quiet at the mention of the others. The silence went on for so long it began to feel awkward, and I was about to excuse myself when he finally spoke up. 

"I'm sorry, by the way. Can't be easy for you, with Mr. Morgan gone." 

My lips parted, I stared at him for a second. Eventually I closed my mouth and nodded. 

"Just trying not to get too caught up in thinking about where he could be," I said, and he smiled at me in that shy, closed mouth way of his. 

"Well, there ain't much point in getting yourself all worried, now," he said, then looked around timidly, "if there's anything I can do for you to take some stress off, maybe take a couple of your chores, you let me know."

"Aw, thank you. That's kind. But I'm okay, I reckon I prefer keeping busy," I told him. 

"In that case, can I give you any of my chores?" He asked, then snickered and shook his head. "No, I'm kidding. But uh, yeah, if there is anything I can help you with, it's the least I could do. You saved my skin."

I shook my head and smiled. "Thanks, I'll keep it in mind," I told him. He nodded, rubbed his hands on his pants. 

"Anyway, I–" he finished his sentence by simply pointing over his shoulder, then he shuffled off in that direction. 

-

I'd stopped keeping track of the days since Arthur's departure, but I had to figure it'd been a few weeks. It felt like longer, though, every day dragging and dragging. I spent most of my time in camp, most people did. Nobody was going out pulling jobs, bringing in money; Sadie and Charles had decided that the heat was far too intense to risk drawing any more attention, so any work we did was legal and purely for survival. Hunting, selling skins, gathering herbs and selling those, that sort of thing. It didn't bring in much but it was enough to buy the food and supplies we needed. We were trying to stretch the money in the camp fund tin as far as possible considering there wasn't much going in it and we didn't know how long we'd have without Dutch and the others. 

I had been given a rare outing, though, with Abigail. We'd been handed a small bundle of cash and tasked with going into Saint Denis to buy some vegetables. We took one of the wagons, and I drove us into town and to the market where I knew we'd get a better price than the general store if we haggled. She did a better job than I did of getting the price down, she wasn't afraid to bat her eyelashes and put on a little charm with the man running the stall. He helped us load up the wagon, to boot. 

"You feel like finding somewhere to get a cool drink before heading back? I got some money saved up, ain't suggesting we use the camp funds. I just feel like staying out a little longer," Abigail suggested when we climbed back on the wagon. 

"That sounds real nice," I nodded gratefully. 

"We won't be too long, but we've been cooped up in that swamp so long I feel like we deserve some time away," she said, and took the reins. We rode around for some time before finding a small cafe that advertised fresh lemonade and a courtyard around the back. We figured it was a good a place as any, and the courtyard would keep us out of view of the street in case anyone happened to recognise us. 

Abigail treated me to my drink and we sat down on a table in the courtyard, the place was pretty vacant. Most patrons were sitting inside out of the sun, it happened to be a rather warm day, but we valued privacy over shade. Abigail sighed and leaned back in the metal chairs that probably would've burned they were so hot in the sun, if it weren't for our clothes acting as a barrier. She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath. 

"You hear that?" She asked, and I strained my ears. All I could hear was the murmur of voices from the cafe and the streets beyond, the ringing of the church bells, hoof beats on cobblestone. The sounds of the city. "Ain't an alligator hiss, a cricket or a disgruntled Pearson for miles."

"Ain't a fan of this new camp?"

"Is anyone?" She countered drily.

I chuckled at her admission. "Sorta reminds me of growing up," I mused. 

"Oh, of course. I'm sorry," Abigail averted her eyes guiltily and I shook my head. 

"No, it’s okay. It ain’t too pleasant, I know," I snorted, "there are a lot of reasons I ain't been back since I left. But it feels a bit like home anyway." 

"How're you finding it all?" She asked. 

"You know, fine," I shrugged and sipped my drink, ignoring her eyes on me, all concerned. "How're you finding it? I know you must be worried about John."

She made a _tsking_ sound, and her expression withered. "Sure. I understand why we can't just go busting him out without a thought, but still. He's my– he's the father of my son. I just wish there was some sense of urgency about getting him back."

"You know I'd help you, Abigail, if I was good with these things. John saved my life. If I could save him too, then…" I trailed off and sighed. "I miss him too. He's a good friend."

"Never said I missed him," she said, pressing her lips together. 

"Come on, Abigail," I nudged, looking at her directly. 

"Maybe a little," she said quietly. "Anyway, don't you prod me tryin'a get me to open up about my feelings. If I hear you say you're fine one more time I'll lose my damn mind."

"What do you want me to say?" I cocked a brow at her.

"I don't know. That you miss Arthur, or something," she stammered with uncertainty.

"Of course I miss him. With my whole heart I do, I thought it went without saying."

"You're allowed to open up about it, that's all I'm saying," she sighed. "You've been real quiet. Some of us are worried."

"I'm always quiet, though."

"Sure, but not like this."

"This is my way of dealing with it. I feel like if I speak too much about him I'll– it'll spiral into something and I won't be able to handle it so well," I told her honestly, and after searching my eyes for a moment she nodded in understanding. 

"Alright then. As long as you'll tell someone if it gets too much."

"I will. Thank you. Everyone has been so kind these last few weeks," I smiled, emotion bubbling and threatening to make me cry. 

"Well, in situations like this, sure beats being a bunch of bastards to each other. And you know, it could go either way, everyone’s so wound up."

"Some people went the other way. Or are at least heading there. I can't stand the bickering going on," I sighed and Abigail rolled her eyes.

"I've learned to tune it out. It's Uncle who's gettin' on my nerves. Keeps going on about having to do something, get some money, figure a better place to move to. All the while he's sitting on his ass drinking the last of the booze," she grumbled.

"I don't think I could stand moving again so soon, truth be told."

"No, you're right. All this moving is wearing thin. More than ever it makes me wanna take Hosea's advice and get the hell out of here," she admitted, her lips puckering sadly. 

"He told you that?"

"He always thought it'd be best for me and the boy to be out of this life. We were just trying to make John see sense," she explained, and suddenly I realised her issues with John were far more complicated than simply being angry that he'd left for a year. "He never was the family kind."

"Maybe his arrest will be the kick up the backside he needs. For what it's worth, I think you'd all be better off getting out, too."

She nodded, looking down. She was quiet for a few moments. "You and Arthur ever talk about leaving?"

My mouth opened but I just stared at her. I didn't know how to answer. "Uhh, sure, it was mentioned a couple times," I settled on. "Mostly when Dutch was on about going to Tahiti."

"Oh, Christ. I sure as hell weren't going along with that, whether John went or not."

"Did he want to go?"

"John don't know what he wants. I ain't got no hope of knowing," she chuckled. 

"Well, I hope he chooses you and Jack in the end, Abigail," I smiled at her, "I think he will. He's not that big of a fool."

"I hope you're right. Actually, I wanna get a newspaper while we're here. See if anything's been said about him, d'ya mind?"

"Course not," I said, and finished the rest of my lemonade.

We left the cafe then, and made our way back out to the streets to find the paper vendor. He wasn't far from the wagon, so I waited there while Abigail went and bought the newest paper. She handed it to me when she climbed up onto the wagon to join me. 

"I uh, can't actually," she began quietly, then cleared her throat. "Would you mind reading it for me? I'll drive."

"Of course," I nodded, looking down at it. The wagon started moving and I scanned the front page for news about infamous outlaws being captured, but the entire cover was on about a ship heading to Cuba. I gave it little thought, flicking through the paper scanning for anything to do with outlaws, bank robberies, John Marston… 

I finally came across an article a few pages in. It was about the bank, talking about multiple criminals at large, one imprisoned, one killed at the scene, all linked to Dutch's boys. I skim-read it, trying to find something I didn't already know. When I did find something, my mouth dropped open. 

"They… they're saying he'll be–" I turned my eyes to her, unable to spit it out. 

"What?"

"Well, they wanna move him to Sisika," I finally said. Abigail stared at me with eyes frozen wide. "Yeah, he's currently being held in Saint Denis, but they wanna move him to Sisika by next week."

"Well then we're gonna need to break him out soon. Ain't no hope of getting him out of that place!" She exclaimed and I shushed her, looking around, we were still in the middle of the city. Abigail sped up the horses, almost taking out a pedestrian.

"Calm down! We'll just get back and tell the others."

"What else does it say?" She asked harshly. 

"Not a lot. It's all very vague, like they don't wanna say much. I mean, I guess it makes sense. They're hardly gonna put the time and date of when they'll be moving him with the others still out there, that'd be asking for a break out job," I shook my head, rereading the article. "Other than that it's just saying what we already know. Good Lord, you know how many officers were killed?"

"I don't particularly wanna know," she sighed. We were out of the city by then, and heading for the bayou. I gnawed on my lip. They'd killed a lot of people on that bank job, the number printed in front of me difficult to comprehend as individual lives. I closed the newspaper, swallowed down the sickly feeling in my gut and stayed quiet as we headed back to camp. 

Abigail rolled the wagon to a stop at the entrance to Lakay, tearing the paper (literally, I was left with the front cover) from my hands and jumping down, marching towards the shack at the edge of camp. I didn't move for a while, watching her run, moments before I heard her yelling. I sighed and closed my eyes, taking a breath. So, John was being moved to a heavily guarded prison in the middle of an island, and the majority of our most competent members were missing. I was struggling to remain positive about such a thing. 

I looked down absent-mindedly at the page still left in my hand, turning it over and looking at the headline. LOST AT SEA. I thought about Arthur, wondered what he would do if he was here. He probably would've been the first to grant Abigail's wishes and come to John's rescue. He was always the one to go saving everyone. But once again, he was the one whose location was unknown, and once again, nothing was being done about it. 

But what could be done about it? He'd gotten on that boat and we knew nothing–

I felt like someone had pushed me from behind, slamming me into a bath of ice cold water. Ice cold water with an electric current going through it. 

I gripped the paper, lifting it and scanning the words on the page. _Departing from Saint Denis… the day of the bank robbery… a terrible storm… unknown number of casualties…_ it all became a blur but I managed to take in the essential information. I shook my head, my hands stiff as if I was sitting up in the grizzlies despite the hot humid air around me. What were the chances? Could it really be? I was overcome with the most awful feeling. Immediately my mind began conjuring up alternatives.

Surely there was more than one boat departing from Saint Denis that night. Right? Ships probably come and go all the time from a city as busy as Saint Denis. Did I have the date right? I never was any good at keeping track of what day it was. If this was the boat that Arthur had boarded, this news would've been printed sooner, wouldn't it? The odds of it being that boat, the chances of everything lining up in such a way–

"Are you alright there?" Lenny's voice broke me from my stupor and I turned my wide eyes and gaping mouth to him. 

"Uhh," I responded dumbly. I couldn't yet speak. I extended a shaky arm, handing him the scrap of paper. He took it from me with a frown on his face, and I watched his eyes dart back and forth as he read the article. His frown didn't shift immediately, but his brows gradually raised, realisation sinking in.

"You don't think…" he began, eyes flicking back up to me. My head jerked, it wasn't a nod or a shake, it wasn't any real response, but Lenny seemed to gain something from it. "We should… we should tell the others," he murmured, seeming about as stunned as me, though dealing with it a lot better. 

He swallowed visibly, dragging the back of his hand across his brow, wiping away the beads of moisture collected there as he frowned back down at the page, eyes darting to and fro again. He licked his lips, pressing them together, his hand gripping the paper hard enough it shook a little. 

"I…" he began, shaking his head. He met my eyes again. "Are you alright? You don't look so good." 

"I'm, um, I don't know," I frowned, turning, swinging my legs over the edge of the wagon and sliding down. Lenny reached out, ensuring I didn't stumble, eyeing me up with a creased forehead.

I didn't know what to feel. I couldn't tell how I felt, at all. I didn't feel anything. There was a sense of panic there, but it was behind a wall, just in the peripheral, at the edge of my senses. 

"Maybe you shouldn't stand up," he worried, touching my elbow.

"I'm okay," I shook my head. 

"You want me to go and show them this?" He asked and I nodded. 

"Yeah, maybe you should. I think I'm gonna… I feel like I need a minute, just," I said, ambling away towards the water's edge. 

"Shall I send someone to you?" He asked me, and I could hear how concerned he was but all I wanted was for people to not focus on me, it was Arthur and the others who mattered then.

"No, I just need to be alone for a bit, don't worry, Lenny," I told him, shaking my head. "Thanks," I added, then slipped behind one of the half collapsed buildings and leaned up against the side, staring out over the swamp and breathing heavily. 

I squeezed my eyes shut, peering into the blackness behind my lids. I squeezed them so hard that bursts of nonexistent light filled my vision. I hoped that when I opened them I would see the peeling wall of Arthur's room in Shady Belle and he'd be sleeping pressed up behind me on his bed, and everything from the last few weeks had never happened and it was just a particularly terrible nightmare. But I opened them to a blurry image of green and brown, blinking into focus the swamp with gators floating in the distance, spoonbills flying overhead, flies and mosquitoes buzzing around my face. Something wavered in me and I felt tension building, it came out as a sob, one I choked back and trapped behind the hand I pressed over my mouth. I took several deep breaths, steadying myself, reining it in. Someone said my name, so soft and gentle and kind it almost destroyed that control I pulled back. 

I turned to see Mary-Beth peering around the side of the building, her big, pretty eyes looking so sad and sympathetic. I shook my head and turned away from her. 

"Hey, now. Come inside, won't you? Lenny showed us that article. I know you must be going out of your mind…" she cooed, and I heard her footsteps padding on the soggy ground. 

"I don't want to," I said, my voice sounding tight and quiet.

"Okay… alright," she said carefully. I felt her hand on my back, between my shoulders, rubbing softly. 

The breath I took was jerky. "Where is Molly?" I asked, suddenly realising I hadn't seen her for a while.

"Molly? You're close with Molly?" She said, sounding surprised. 

"No, I just– her and Dutch. I wanna know how she's taking it, that's all." 

"Oh… well, truth is, she ain't here," she admitted, looking down. 

"What?" I turned to look at her.

"Apparently she left while we were out burying Hosea," she told me. I raised my brows.

"Oh," I released the small noise, looking away. Perhaps she'd decided to go back to Ireland after all. At least she'd never have to hear about this. "Nobody's worried?"

"Well, her things are gone. And one of the Morgans," she said, and I nodded. "Doesn't look like she's been taken away against her will. I sorta saw it coming. Dutch was the only thing keeping her here, and," she trailed off, shrugging lightly. 

"Well, that's…" I began, my voice disappearing when I realised I had nothing to say. 

"Can any of us do anything for you? Do you need someone, I don't know, do you need a hug or someone to talk to?" She asked after a moment. 

"Mary-Beth, you're very sweet. I appreciate you coming and seeing how I am. I'm just… I don't quite know what to do with myself just yet. If that really is– if what I read has something to do with Arthur–" I closed my eyes and shook my head. "What'll I do?" 

"Well, it's okay to cry. You don't have to hold everything in," she said, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it.

"All that'll achieve is giving me a headache," I muttered, "I think I might go out for a ride."

"Alone?" She balked, and I nodded, "are you sure?"

"Yeah."

I slipped my hand out of hers and walked around the building, heading for the horses. Mary-Beth followed.

"I'm not sure this is a good idea," she warned, fiddling with her fingers. 

"I have my guns. I promise I'll come back later, I ain't running off," I assured her, "I know these parts well. Grew up here."

"Well, okay then. Please be safe."

I mounted up, patting Rayna on the neck, clicking at her and tugging her reins. 

"I will be. I won't go far," I forced a smile at her, then trotted off down the path.


	45. Opening Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses on reader and Charles, I really liked writing this one, I love Charles so much <3

I'd been following the same path in circles around the bayou for a while, crossing over to each side of the Kamassa River over and over again. I'd been out on a ride around Scarlett Meadows but when it began to get dark, I'd started heading back. I couldn't quite bring myself to return to camp, however. I thought a ride would help clear my mind, give me a chance to get my head straight and absorb what had gone on. But truthfully, I felt no different than I had when I left. It was so odd, continuously bouncing back and forth between sinking into a deep cavern of grief and dread, then reminding myself that I didn't know for sure the boat that had gone down was carrying Arthur. It was all I could think about, though, I couldn't shift my focus for more than a moment. 

Bored of seeing the same path, I veered off. I headed down the familiar trails of the swamp, knowing exactly where I was headed but not quite knowing why. Rayna carried me from the denser part of the bayou, and out into the surrounding land where there were fewer trees. It was as if she remembered, and I barely had to direct her before we came upon the place. 

It looked a lot different now. Someone had moved in and tore down what once was my house and rebuilt it into something smaller, yet more solid. Though, that wasn't saying a lot. Like most buildings in this area, it looked a little run down; perhaps it was the moist air taking its toll on the wood by softening it. I didn't know or particularly care. I stopped a ways away from the shack, glancing around the patch of land, recognising it despite the changes. There was a particularly tall tree over to the left, underneath which sat two crosses. I didn't look at them for long, looking down at Rayna instead; I petted the top of her head, breathing out a soothing shushing sound despite the fact she wasn't in need of soothing. It was more for my own benefit. 

There was a light on inside the shack, and I knew that if I stayed too long or made too much noise, whoever was inside would likely come out and blow my brains out. That's just how the people were in these parts. I kept my distance, hoping the trees and the shadows would be enough to conceal me. 

I sighed softly and leaned forwards, leaning against the horn of my saddle and pressing my forehead against the back of Rayna's neck. I closed my eyes, listening to the toads and the crickets. If I focused hard enough I could place myself back in the night Arthur and I had laid down on the deck of the shack back at Shady Belle, staring up at the stars side by side. I imagined that he was close to me and took comfort in it. If I kept my eyes closed then my brain couldn't know that it wasn't true. 

In those few peaceful moments I was finally away from it all. I didn't notice the hoof beats or the huff of breath through horse nostrils as someone sidled up to me. That's why I all but shit myself when–

"Hey."

I jolted upright. Charles and Taima were by my side. 

"Jesus Christ," I hissed, slamming my hand against my chest. 

"I'm sorry," he said. His voice was low, all but a whisper. 

"How did you find me?"

"It's a skill of mine," he shrugged.

"Just like creeping up on people?" I questioned, it came out harsher than intended. Charles didn't flinch. 

"Come back to camp."

"I–" 

"I don't care if you don't want to. I don't wanna have to be tracking down your corpse in the morning."

"I wasn't going to say that," I said, narrowing my eyes slightly. "I was just about to come back." 

"Oh. Okay then," he murmured, softening his tone. "I'm sorry. I'm just… I'm a little worried about you. Today was not a good day." 

"Don't worry about me. I'm alive and well," I shrugged. 

"Physically, maybe. I'm more worried about what's happening up here," he pointed to his head. 

"I'm not going mad," I frowned.

"No, you're not. But you're hurting and you're isolating yourself. When that happens, it's rarely a good outcome." 

"Charles you keep to yourself more than anyone I know. I could say that you isolate yourself," I pointed out. 

"No, I just don't talk much. I don't walk around in circles for hours on end– and by the way, what the hell?" He gave me an incredulous look. 

"I was taking a ride," I grumbled, feeling my face get hot. 

"Some ride. You're not yourself right now. What if the nightfolk jump you while you're in this mindset? Do you think you could fight them off?"

"No, probably not," I admitted with a shrug, and he stared at me, slack jawed. "And no, that's not what I'm hoping for, before you start to think I'm…" I trailed off, shaking my head. 

"Speak to me," Charles sighed. 

"Charles, I'm not going to sit here whining and crying to you, using you like that."

"So, if I was upset and wanted to let it all out, you'd think of it as me using you?" He asked. 

"Of course not," I frowned at him. He stared at me, letting my words speak for him. When I didn't seem to respond correctly, he sighed. 

"So why'd you think you'd be using me?" He asked. I didn't have an answer. Charles sighed my name, "you're my friend. At least I like to think so."

"I think so too," I clarified. 

"Then let me _be_ your friend."

I stared at the ground for a while, letting the silence drag on. Eventually, I met his eyes, then nodded. 

"This is where I grew up, you know," I started, and Charles looked over at the shack ahead. 

"In there?"

I shook my head. "Our house was torn down. But it was here. My parents are over there," I nodded towards the tree with the crosses underneath. Charles followed my gesture with his eyes and I found his expression hard to read. 

"Do you miss them?" He asked. I pursed my lips.

"Of course, sometimes. But I don't often think about it, now, until I came back here anyway," I explained and he nodded in understanding. "Do you still have your parents, if you don't mind me asking?" I looked at him, and his brows jumped a little at the question, surprised I'd asked. 

"No. I lost my mother when I was just a kid. I grew up with her tribe, then the army came and destroyed our way of life, then they took her," he told me, his voice flat and level, far calmer than I'd expect from such a story. I closed my eyes, shook my head. 

"That's…" I didn't just want to say that it was a terrible thing, sound hollow, I just trailed off. "I can understand why you're so eager to help those at Wapiti."

Charles nodded, paused for a moment, then continued. "My father didn't deal well with it. He fell head first into a bottle and I didn't stick around long enough to see if he ever came out. Ran away when I was something like thirteen, fourteen," he told me. Then his eyes flickered to mine. "I thought we were talking about you. You're sly."

"I'll find it easier to open up if we're both exposed," I reasoned, and he seemed to accept that. "I know what it's like to watch a parent lose themselves to alcohol. My mother," I looked over at her grave. 

"I'm sorry." 

"She didn't die that way. She was sick with the flu, just like my pa. But she had a problem with it. I don't like seeing Karen how she is right now, it reminds me too much of her."

"I understand," he nodded sympathetically. 

"I don't know why I came here. I guess I wanted to see how it'd changed. I thought it might change the way I was feeling somehow. I'm not… I'm not doing well, Charles. I know that's obvious. Perhaps admitting it will help," my voice was just above a whisper. 

"Come on, let's dismount and find somewhere to sit down," he suggested, and we did just that. 

I led Rayna over to a spot nearby, further from my old home. We found a fallen tree to sit on and we lit a lantern, placing it on the ground in front of us so we weren't sitting in complete darkness. I checked the area thoroughly for snakes and gators before sitting down next to Charles who was leaning forwards, elbows on his knees, watching a moth flying around the light. 

"Can I be completely honest with you? And you won't judge or tell anyone, or think badly of Arthur or me?" I queried, so desperate to tell him the truth about what had been discussed between Arthur and I. 

"Of course. That's the idea of this," he said. I nodded and looked down at my hands. I took a few moments to build my nerve up. 

"Arthur and I made a plan," I began, speaking very quietly. "He was worried about me being in this gang. He was starting to feel restless too, questioning whether he needed to make different choices. After this bank job… Arthur was counting on us having enough money to go and start a life somewhere else. We weren't going to join Dutch in Tahiti." 

"You weren't?" He murmured, though he didn't sound shocked. 

I shook my head. "He didn't want to go to some tropical island. Neither did I. We said we'd try and head west, avoiding Blackwater. He thought we had a better chance with just the two of us."

"I see," he nodded, a crease forming between his brows.

"I guess this is just… if this hadn't happened, he and I could be somewhere completely different," I pointed out, feeling tears coming. I resisted them. 

"I'm sorry," he momentarily leaned over, pressing his shoulder against mine. 

"He wanted to make sure that you were all okay. That you had money and a plan, a future. He didn't want to leave before he had that peace of mind. It was difficult for him, and honestly I felt awful about it, that he was doing it for me–"

"He was doing it for himself too, don't feel bad about that. I know Arthur, he wouldn't quit the gang if he didn't want to, that's for certain," Charles interjected. "He must've really wanted to start a life with you to talk about walking away from Dutch." 

"I– I suppose you're right," I squeaked. "It doesn't really– well, it's all changed now. Charles, what if he's–" I couldn't say it, my eyes welling. I blinked to try and clear them but one tear escaped down my cheek, I scrubbed it away. 

"There's nothing I can say that will make this better, I know that. But it's a fact that we don't know what boat they boarded. It's not necessarily set in stone," he reminded me softly, then squeezed his hands together, fidgeting, "but of course. I wouldn't be doing you any favours trying to convince you that he was definitely okay." 

"I know," I nodded. "I'm sorry Charles. Arthur's your friend, too." 

"Yeah," he breathed, eyes fixed on the lantern. "I hope that we're mistaken, I truly do. That bank job," he shook his head, scrubbed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets then dragged them back over his head.

"The worst idea Dutch ever had," I sighed, then shook my head, "but I can't blame him. None of us saw this coming."

"Do you think you'll stick around if Arthur– if they don't–" Charles didn't finish and he didn't need to.

"I have no idea. What about you?" 

"I don't know, either. I'm wondering if the gang will disband without Dutch. Molly's already gone," he pointed out and I looked at him.

"Yeah? I don't know. My understanding is this gang formed from people with no place in the world, and they found it here. You think it's just Dutch holding everyone together?"

"It's hard to say. Things haven't exactly been great since he and the others haven't been here," he noted and I hummed in acknowledgement, "what if he does come back, you think you two'll still leave?"

"I hope so. Especially after all this. I don't really want to tempt fate any more, I doubt I could handle him robbing any more banks, you know? I used to be able to tell myself he'd always be fine, he's been living like this for years and years, he knows exactly what he's doing. It'd be enough to calm my nerves until he came back. Now I know what it's like when he doesn't, and this is so much worse than when the O'Driscolls had him. That was a couple of days. This…" I sighed and held my head in my hands. I felt Charles' hand on my back. I could no longer prevent tears from spilling. I sniffled, pressing my hands into my eyes. 

"It's okay," Charles reassured me, his hand rubbing back and forth across my shoulder blades. I broke.

"I love him so much," I sobbed, "and the worst thing is, I never told him that. I never said the words to him." 

Charles' arm wrapped around my shoulders, tugged me closer, against his chest, his hand scrubbing up and down my arm briskly. I surrendered to it, leaning into him and letting the tears come as they pleased, ignoring the voice in the back of my head telling me I'd be embarrassed about it once I pulled myself together. 

"Love is more than just the words. People show that they love each other in the things they do; I'm certain Arthur knows how you feel." 

"Have you met the man? He barely believes that I think he's handsome," I said and despite it all, Charles released a fond chuckle. "I used to count on him just knowing but now I fear I'll never get to tell him for sure, I wish I'd told him every damn day." 

Charles didn't say anything, he didn't need to, all he had to do was listen to me and give me the chance to pour my heart out as he held me. I hadn't hugged many people in my life. Just my parents, a couple of the gang members, and of course Arthur. Charles' hug was solid and steady, I felt protected in his arms, but there was a distance to it, too. He did not feel over familiar, he kept it to the tenderness of a friend. Which was why it felt so different to being held by Arthur, and though the hug comforted me, it made me miss him all the more.

"Being with Arthur felt like the first time I'd felt true happiness since my parents passed. I don't know how to deal with the fact that he might now be– that he could be gone forever. How do I begin to get over it? My heart feels like it's–" I shook my head, unable to put it into words. "It hurts."

"I wish I had answers for you," Charles said quietly. "I've– I've never really loved a person, not like that," he revealed. 

I shifted and he loosened his arms, allowing me to sit up again. "You haven't?" I asked. 

He shook his head. "Anyone I have gotten close to, it just hasn't–" he shrugged, "I've never felt that way in the end."

"I hadn't before meeting Arthur," I told him. 

"I understand what it's like to lose someone important. Just not like that. I'm sorry, I'm not really good with advice. I'm a better listener than a talker," he said under his breath apologetically and I shook my head, patting his arm. 

"I'm not looking for advice. For something like this, I don't believe there is any," I admitted, glancing off to the side, "but you've shown me a great deal of care. That means a lot."

"I promised Arthur I'd look after you when I left the docks," he told me, pressing his thumb into the palm of his hand, rubbing at a patch of scar tissue idly, "seeing you these last few weeks, looking as down as you have been; didn't feel like I was doing a good job."

I didn't know what to say to that. To think my name had been mentioned that night, amongst all that disaster, Arthur had thought of me. My chest hurt. 

"It's funny. I've spoken to you more than I've spoken to some of the others, and you've been here for the shortest time. I guess I'm not particularly sociable. But when you arrived, you reminded me of myself when I first joined. You threw yourself into work, never wanting to sit idle. I'll never forget when you pleaded with me to let you go hunting," he chuckled. "I think when you're alone you get so used to doing everything yourself, you're constantly active. Joining a group where the workload is spread, it's an adjustment."

"Yeah, it is," I nodded. 

"I think that may be why you and I gravitated towards Arthur," he pointed out, looking at me. "He seems to have a similar attitude. Doesn't want to let anyone down. But he's never– I may sound like a cold bastard, but I find certain members of the gang very annoying. Arthur's never that. His company is preferable to the rest of them," he waved a hand in the general direction of camp. 

I nodded. His company was certainly preferable over anyone I'd ever met, but I may have been biased. 

"I don't really know where I'm going with this. I guess I just wanted you to know that I feel like I relate to you in a number of ways. And you've never been annoying. Only when you lie and say you're fine, thinking I'm dumb enough to believe it," he nudged me and I exhaled a laugh through my nose. 

"Thank you, Charles," I told him softly, smiling, "this may sound strange, but I've always found your company very calming."

"It's not strange. You're not the first to tell me that," he said. 

"Well, maybe this is your calling. Bringing people back down to Earth, calming them down."

He chuckled to himself. "I guess I've had a lot of practice calming myself down. I used to let my emotions – usually anger – get the better of me. Years ago. I try not to let that happen anymore. It still does, sometimes, but now I feel things can usually be solved better with words, so long as people keep their heads about them." 

"That's very wise," I said. 

"It's what I'm trying to convince Eagle Flies of. He's the son of the chief of the tribe I've been helping. He has a lot of passion, and with that comes anger. And rightly so. Unfortunately, it's not the right solution for their problems. His father knows that."

I perked with interest, looking at him with curved brows. "What exactly are they going through right now?"

"Yet another treaty has been broken. Their people are being treated like animals, no regard for their health whatsoever. A lot of the tribe is sick, and vaccines and medicine are being withheld. The whole situation disgusts me," he explained, his voice low and resonant.

My mouth opened, but I didn't know what to say. Charles sighed, his silence lasting only a moment. 

"War has weakened them. If things get worse with the army– I fear for them," he admitted. 

"What those people are going through… what the army and the government are doing to them; it's shameful," I said, and I saw him nod from the corner of my eye. 

"I'm doing all I can for now, to convince Eagle Flies to listen to his father. If he continues to fight with anger and violence, it will only add fuel to the flame. They like to think of our kind as savage, as reckless and uncivilised. They expect these reactions and take it as proof, never mind how much they provoke it," he said and I nodded in understanding. 

"I don't know what use I would be, but if there is anything at all– please ask me," I whispered, and he met my eyes.

"I will. Thank you," he replied. 

A noise came from behind us, a rustling and a snap. We both jolted and looked towards it. I couldn't see anything through the dark, our lantern only serving to light up the mist surrounding us, making everything beyond a few feet invisible. I looked at Charles, his eyes were narrowed as he scanned the area from which the noise came. Nothing happened for a few moments, but he slowly rose to his feet, taking my arm in his hand. 

"We should leave," he said quietly. He didn't need to ask twice and we made for our horses. 

We left not knowing if anyone or anything was actually there. It could've been the nightfolk, it could've been a rat, it could've been a falling twig. Neither of us felt it was worth the risk of sticking around to find out. I maintained my opinion that the bayou was creepy, especially at night. It was incredibly easy to run away with your imagination there, convincing yourself that all sorts was lurking in the mist and the foliage.

A lot of the gang was asleep by the time Charles and I returned to camp. Lenny and Miss Grimshaw were both on watch duty for the night, and they asked how I was feeling when I passed. I told them I was starting to get my head on straight, I just needed everything to sink in before I could begin to deal with it. They were kind to me and reminded me that the gang was a family, we were there for each other.

We crept into the main cabin where most people slept and went to our respective bedrolls, guided by the limited light of the two lanterns that were dotted across the space. I sat down on mine, curled up on my side, facing the wall with Mary-Beth behind me fast asleep. My satchel sat next to Arthur's in my line of sight and I reached out to touch his, running my hand over the front of it, feeling the soft, pliable aged leather interrupted by the coarseness of warn, scuffed spots as my fingers passed over it. I pulled it over to me, tracing my fingertips over the partially matted fur that made up the flap. I inhaled. If I was being honest, it didn't smell great. There was an undertone of leather and Arthur's own smell, but it was sadly overpowered by a bouquet of spoiled food, too many herbs and plants clashing with each other, blood and horse.

I had taken the liberty of throwing out the rotting meat and cheese I'd realised was in there about a week ago, when I kept catching the odor when laying in bed. I hadn't pried too much into what the contents of his bag were, but I'd noticed a mishmash of all sorts of stuff; drawings, photographs, trinkets. He carried around the world in his satchel. 

Without thinking, I lifted the flap and reached inside, my knuckles immediately brushing against his journal. I paused for a moment, then retrieved it. Sitting up on my elbow I placed the book down in front of me, bracing my palm on the smooth, well-loved and broken in leather of the cover, flexible from continuous opening and closing. My thumb inched towards the strap that held the thing closed, mousing along its raw edge, dipping underneath and prying it away from the cover but not quite releasing it from its fastening just yet.

I drew a breath, long and slow through my nose, then released it, wondering how Arthur would feel about me peeking inside his journal. A sad, nasty little voice told me he would never know if he was dead, and I would end up looking at some point during the grieving process. I sighed and relinquished the strap from its slot, smoothing it out away from the cover. I fingered the edge of the page, toying with it, not quite giving myself permission to open it. Instead I slipped my hand under the front cover, running my fingers across the page, feeling the grooves and indentations where his pencil had once pressed into its surface, revealing his inner thoughts. 

I was struck with this uncanny feeling at once. There was a sense of grief, longing, of course. But then a surreal sense of personal connection, feeling the marks that Arthur had made. It brought tears to my eyes in an instant and I removed my hand, closing the strap once more and concealing his journal back within the confines of his satchel where I decided it would stay for the foreseeable future. There was no way I could bring myself to read it, not while there was still a chance that he was out there, alive, tangible, of flesh and blood and with privacy that needed respecting. 

I decided I would read it only when given his direct verbal permission, or when beginning to forget the sound of his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a certain someone *cough* anonymous_huxely *cough* is really eager to see inside Arthur's journal, I'm so sorry for teasing you at the end there!! Don't worry, I have a plan! And not like one of Dutch's plans, this one actually exists, I promise <3


	46. Treasure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader receives a gift that gives her a reason to smile, and then she smiles a whole lot more.

Days went by, nondescript and immeasurable, practically the same routine everyday. I woke up, I did chores, I went to bed, and repeated it all the next day. The sense of hope that I'd kept at heart in the days following the discovery of that newspaper article was dwindling steadily, and every day felt longer and longer, harder and harder, till I was just going through the motions until I could go to sleep again. 

People noticed. Charles first, of course, he'd been keeping a keen eye on me the whole time, checking in on me each day to ask how I was. He was soft and careful with me, speaking to me in a tone that reminded me of how one would talk to a spooked horse. I appreciated his kindness, but it didn't matter how many times he asked me if I was okay, I'd always just say yes. I wasn't, obviously, we both knew that. But mine was the sort of sadness that nothing could cure, but perhaps time. Even that seemed impossible, for the more time that passed, the smaller the flame of hope grew, and the more I came to believe that my Arthur was gone. It was a scenario I didn't want to accept. 

Sadie approached me one afternoon an indiscernible number of days since Abigail and I's trip to Saint Denis. I hadn't left camp since, excluding the ride I'd taken that evening. 

"Hey there. I heard you was a good con-woman. You wanna come out with me, see if we can rustle something up?" She asked. I lifted my head from the arrow I was working on – Charles had taught me how to improve them to make them stronger and more accurate – to look at her in bewilderment that she'd want _me_ to do something with her, the miserable mare I was.

"Right now?"

"Sure, nothing too fancy. Just something to put a little extra money in our pockets," she said, offering me a kind smile. 

My lips parted and I was hesitant to answer. In truth, Christ no, I did not want to go conning right then. It was the absolute last thing I wanted to do. It took enough energy just to pretend to be not on the verge of crying constantly, I didn't think I had it in me to paint another layer onto the facade for the sake of a con. But how on Earth could I say no when the gang was in such a dire situation?

Thankfully, she saw my hesitation for what it was, and her face fell just a little. She sat down on the crate next to me, leaned forwards with her elbows on her knees and stared at her hands. 

"I know what you're going through," she said quietly. "I ain't making you work, I just thought you might wanna do something more interesting than chores, try and get your mind off it. For me, that's all I wanted at the start." 

"That's a kind sentiment, Sadie," I whispered, smiling, "but I'm okay here, jus' doing this," I waved the completed arrow at her then placed it with the bundle by my feet. 

"Okay then, if you're sure," she said, then after a moment, moved to leave. I stopped her with a hand on her arm. 

"I'm so sorry about your husband. I know that was real raw when I first showed up, I never said nothing about it. I hope you don't think of me as rude for not giving you my condolences," I told her abruptly.

"I don't. You didn't know me at all, and no offense, I barely even realised you were new for a start. First couple weeks were a blur, I don't remember much. I was too torn apart," she admitted, and I nodded sympathetically. "Keeping busy helps, I know. But you gotta be careful not to just shut everything out and rely on monotony to get you through the day, you lose a lot of time that way. You wake up one day and realise how long it's been and–" she stopped abruptly, sighed and shook her head.

I felt awful for Sadie. She was a married woman, I didn't know for how long but she was _married_. I knew how painful it was no longer having Arthur by my side and he and I's relationship was relatively young. I couldn't even claim to know exactly how Sadie must've felt losing her husband. 

"I always liked Arthur," she began on a different note, lifting her head, "he's one of the good ones, ain't he?"

I nodded my head. 

"You keep hold of him, if he makes it back here," she advised, patting the back of my hand where it rested on my knee. I met her eyes. 

"I fully intend to. I don't know how I'd– it's hard because I don't know whether I should be grieving or not," I said, and her brow creased in sympathy. 

"Yeah, it's an odd situation. But some hope's better than none, ain't it?" She offered and I nodded slowly. 

"I suppose it is. Every time I see something move over there–" I jerked my head towards the entrance to Lakay– "my heart goes mad and I'm searching for him." 

Sadie looked at me, her eyes full of pity throughout the lull in conversation. She pressed her lips together, then sighed and looked down. 

"After my Jakey died, Abigail was a good friend to me. She'd sit with me and let me cry and whine and feel sorry for myself and she did it all with compassion. I know you and I ain't particularly close, but I want you to know, I wouldn't mind paying Abigail's favour forward. I'm here for you if you need a shoulder to cry on. Someone who knows your pain," she told me. 

She was speaking as if Arthur was definitely dead and while her kindness was appreciated, I hated what it meant. She didn't think he was coming back. She pitied me, saw herself in me, in what I was going through. I was far from ready to start accepting the very real possibility that Arthur was dead, and when a reasonable response to her offer failed to materialise in my brain, I just stared at her. I stared with parted lips and tears welling in my eyes and anger building that I did not want to direct at her. So I got up, and walked away as quickly as I could. 

I shut myself away in the building with the painted wall, my usual spot, and threw myself down on the bed that resided there. The sheets were musty and unclean, I had no clue how long they'd been there or who had slept in them last, but I couldn't care less. I curled up on my side and squeezed my eyes shut. 

Arthur wasn't dead. If he was I'd have a gut feeling, wouldn't I? I'd somehow know. It had been weeks since the night of the robbery, but it would take weeks for him to get back to America after leaving on a boat. There was still a feasible chance that he was heading home, or he could be back already, and just looking for us. Or maybe he and the others were just giving it some time, letting the heat die down before attempting to come back to us. There were plenty of alternative reasons for his absence and the likelihood of it being because he was dead was probably the smallest. Arthur's strong. He's clever. 

I squeezed my eyes ever tighter, and the next thing I knew, I was being roused by a hand on my shoulder.

I woke with a start, my eyes flashing open to find Miss Grimshaw looming over me, her expression unreadable. My heart dropped and I shot upright.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fall asleep– I know it looks that way, I'm laying in a bed, but I– I was–" I stammered, giving up on excuses and sighing. She sat down on the bed next to me, her expression shifting into a small smile. 

"It's okay, darlin'. I ain't here to tell you off," she reassured me, squeezing my shoulder once. I shifted, crossing my legs and watching her with intrigue. "Sadie told me that you barged in here earlier on, she was worried she'd upset you."

I shook my head and closed my eyes in frustration at myself. "No, she was being kind. I just ain't myself right now."

"I figured. That's why I wanted to talk to you. And give you something," she said, looking down into her hand. She was holding something I couldn't see. "Things are tough on everybody right now, but I know you must feel especially worried."

"I don't wanna claim that I'm worse off than everyone else just 'cause–"

"It ain't a competition," she cut me off, "that ain't my point, just let me speak. Your relationship with Arthur is different, more intimate, you're bound to have more intense feelings about his absence, I'm not looking for a debate about that." 

"I'm sorry," I said, feeling like a scolded child. 

"I wanted to do somethin' nice. Or at least something I think is nice, you might hate me for it, I don't know," she shrugged, she had an air of stoicism about her, but I could see that she cared. I frowned in confusion. 

"What is it?"

"I have this necklace," she began, unfurling her hand to reveal a silver necklace with an oval shaped pendant engraved with the image of a heron. It was very pretty. "It's a locket," she added, then handed it to me. 

I draped the chain over my fingers and perched the pendant in my palm, lifting it for a closer inspection. There was a lot of detail in the engraving, I could even make out the suggestion of feathers. 

"I dug around in all our old things. We've got a box of photographs we've kept for years, I had a look and found one small enough to cut up and go in there. I never wear that locket, so you can have it. It was a gift from a lover from years ago," she chuckled playfully at that. 

I pressed my nail to the groove down the edge of the locket and popped it open, carefully parting it to reveal the photo inside. My eyes were blurry in a second. Of course, it was a photograph of Arthur; it looked quite old, he was a little younger, probably in his late twenties, but he was equally as handsome as the Arthur I knew. I blinked and felt tears roll down my cheeks and wordlessly threw myself forwards, wrapping my arm around Susan and burying my face in her shoulder. She made a surprised sound, but hugged me back after a moment. 

"Alright, that's a good response," she chuckled.

"Why on Earth would I hate you for this?"

"I figured it might hurt you, seeing him when he ain't here," she explained. 

"The only pictures I have of him are my silly drawings, I will treasure this," I told her, pulling back to look once again at the locket. I held it close to my face, relishing the opportunity to refresh the image of him in my mind, to remind myself of his lovely eyes, the cute dimple on the end of his nose, the shape of his lips…

"There's that smile we've all missed," she said, nudging me. 

"Thank you so much," I whispered, pressing a kiss to the locket before carefully closing it. 

"Would you like me to help you put it on?"

"Yes please." 

I handed her the necklace and twisted around. Susan draped the thing around my neck, and I peered down at where it laid against my sternum. She fiddled with a clasp for a moment before letting it go once it was secured around my neck. 

"So, there you go, any time you miss him you'll be able to see his face," she smiled at me and I returned it, holding the locket within my palm. "Now that you're smilin' again, are you gonna come help with dinner?" She queried with a stern tone, though it was coloured with playfulness too. I smirked and nodded, rising to my feet and following her back outside.

Every night since then I fell asleep with the locket laying open in my palm. It dulled the empty feeling in my chest made by his absence enough to give me some peace. Though I still of course longed to have him back by my side, Miss Grimshaw's gift certainly helped ease my upset. I went hunting again with Charles, and he noted that I seemed to be doing a bit better, either that or I was getting better at putting on a facade. I wasn't entirely sure which was true, sure, the locket gave me something to hold at night but it wasn't flesh and blood, it wasn't my Arthur. I just told Charles that the people at camp treating me with kindness was probably helping. And it was. 

I'd grown closer to the likes of Charles, Abigail and Sadie, who each seemed to have some sort of perceived duty of care to me. I felt as if I was tucked carefully under each of their wings, and they all took the time to check on me if I'd spent too much time on my own. It made sense. We all had something in common. For Charles, it was that we were missing Arthur, both of us were particularly close to him in our own ways. Abigail, she was missing her man too, though she knew exactly where he was. She rarely outright admitted it of course, continuously mentioning Jack, who – bless him – didn't even fully seem to know what was going on. And Sadie kept looking at me with a certain softness in her eyes and I knew she still saw me as analogous to her when Jake passed, and she felt a sort of responsibility to offer me support.

We gravitated towards each other, I seemed to always have one of them nearby. I appreciated it. I felt less alone while my most treasured person was missing, and it allowed me to feel more like a part of the gang again. I realised that despite my intentions not to, I had aligned myself with Arthur while he was there, sticking to him so closely and allowing my bonds with the rest of the gang to sink into the background. When he first disappeared, I felt like an impostor, similar to when I first joined. I often wondered if that was how Molly had felt too, though she had opted to leave rather than staying. In my case, my strengthened relationship with the others helped me to once again feel at home, though it was an incomplete home. 

After a couple more days passed, I found myself feeling a little numb. It was neither positive or negative. I guessed that my emotions had been so unsteady for so long that they'd stopped knowing what to do and had given up altogether. I took it while I could, grateful for the reprieve. 

I found myself stood cleaning dishes with Abigail one evening, it had been pouring rain all day and we were standing outside underneath the shelter of the lean-to attached to one of the shacks. I lost myself in the constant hiss of the water hitting the ground as I scrubbed the plate in my hand dry. Abigail had been upset that morning, having found out that John had officially been moved to Sisika. I'd done my best to comfort her as she had done with me over Arthur, but she had been quiet and withdrawn for the remainder of the day. I stuck by her side, helping entertain Jack when it was clear that she was too distracted to give him her full attention. He was asleep now, though, curled up inside with Tilly and Mary-Beth. 

I couldn't hear much over the sound of the rain, so when Abigail spoke I was sure I'd missed half of her sentence, because all I heard was: "Arthur?" 

I glanced up at her, she was standing on the other side of the table, looking over my shoulder. 

"What about him?" I asked. Then felt a hot jolt of adrenaline surge through me when I heard wet footsteps and noticed Abigail's eyes following something behind me, I could only take a split second to pray that the conclusion I had drawn was true, then I cranked my neck around so fast it'd hurt in the morning.

There he was. In the same white shirt and dress trousers he'd left Shady Belle in, a few weeks worth of beard grown in, rosy, sunburnt cheeks and a build-up of grime covering every visible inch of his body. My Arthur. 

My knees felt as though they would buckle beneath me and my hand moved to the table behind me, gripping tight. 

"You're alive!" Abigail cheered, a joyous laugh rippling through her words as she rounded the table and jogged over to him. Arthur's eyes never left mine as she gave him a brief hug.

"Hey ladies," he said, his tone friendly but he sounded tired and strange, a little like he was forcing it. My brain had disengaged and I hadn't yet reacted to his return, I was well aware of that, but could do no more than stare at him. 

"Come on, get out of the rain," Abigail said, tugging him by the elbow until he was underneath the shelter, standing a mere few inches away from me, gaze still fixed on my face, his eyes trying to read mine. "I gotta tell the others!" Abigail added, then she was rushing into the house, calling out. 

In the moments we had alone, Arthur reached for me, and I met his hands with mine, entwining our fingers. His shoulders dropped and the creases between his brows softened, then he leaned forward, his forehead kissing mine. 

"My Angel–"

"I thought that you–" we both began, then laughed breathily. That was as far as we got. 

"Hey, Arthur!" Uncle cheered, stepping outside, joined by everyone else inside who seemed equally pleased to see Arthur. I stepped back, turning to face them. Everyone crowded around, clapping him on the back, guiding him inside, I watched as he was whisked away from me, surrounded by his family. 

I followed the crowd inside, watching everyone hug him, silently resenting the fact that I hadn't had the chance to do the same. 

"Where on Earth have you been?" Uncle questioned as a chair was pulled out and Arthur was pushed down into it, a cup of water thrust into his hand. Arthur's eyes scanned the room until he found me. 

"Some island somewhere. Uh, Guarma, I think it was. Washed up there when our ship went down," he explained. 

"So that _was_ your boat we read about in the papers," Lenny pointed out. Arthur downed the water and handed the cup off to an outstretched hand. He was then plied with a bowl of stew. I leaned up against the doorway and felt an easy smile cross my lips at the sight of him. Alive. Right there in front of me. 

"I guess," Arthur mused. 

"We all thought you were gone for good, laying at the bottom of the ocean," Uncle admitted and everyone looked at him with a warning in their eyes. "What? Ain't my problem none of y'all would admit it."

"Well, we nearly was. We all made it, though. The others'll make their way back over the next few days, we thought it best to go one at a time, draw less attention. I volunteered to leave first, I had to–" Arthur explained, his eyes settling on me again. 

"Dutch is still alive?" Someone asked, and Arthur nodded with a mouthful of food, a look coming to his eye that I couldn't place. It wasn't a positive look, that was all.

"And Javier. And Bill," he murmured, then with a tone that nobody had to question, "and Micah."

"We buried Hosea. We got his body back and gave him a nice send off," Abigail told him. Arthur looked at her, slowed his chewing, and nodded in silent appreciation. His demeanor shifted further at the mention of his name, and my heart hurt to look at him that way. 

"The horses all came back, Kieran's been doing a fine job of taking care of 'em," Mary-Beth announced when the silence became uncomfortable. Kieran squirmed under the attention but Arthur nodded at him once. 

"Thanks, Kieran," he murmured. 

"Just doing what I do," Kieran breathed, a lopsided smile on his face. 

"How 'bout I get some water warmed up for you? You really do look like you've been washed up on an island," Miss Grimshaw chuckled, then headed outside. 

"Thank you," Arthur called after her. After a few moments people seemed to realise that staring at him while he was eating wasn't exactly making Arthur feel comfortable, so everyone moved to give him some space and murmurs of conversation filled the room. Charles came up behind him, patting him on the shoulder and bending down to speak to him.

"Good to have you back," I just about made out over the noise in the room. Then Charles' eyes peeled up to me, an expectant look in them. He smirked and pulled a chair up next to Arthur, knocking his knuckles against the back of it.

"He's all yours," he told me.


	47. Reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is a tender chapter of reader and Arthur’s first moments together after such a difficult period apart. I’d been waiting to write this part for so long, I hope you enjoy ❤

I crossed the room, sitting down on the chair beside Arthur. I perched awkwardly on the edge of it, my knees pointing towards him, just barely touching his outer thigh. It felt weird not just throwing my arms around him and completely showering him in kisses and affection, telling him over and over that I loved him and that seeing him alive was the most relief I'd ever felt in my entire life and I missed him so goddamn much and I never wanted to lose him ever again–

But there were people around. I couldn't do that with so many eyes not-so-subtly watching, perhaps expecting that precise reaction. Oh, but I longed to.

"Arthur, I'm so glad you're okay. These past few weeks, not knowing what happened, I've been– I was a mess. Awful to be around. Just ask any one of 'em," I spoke very quietly, just so he could hear. He looked up at me from his stew, wiping at the hair of his beard that kept trying to go into his mouth along with the spoon. 

"I can't imagine you'd ever be awful to be around," he said, his usual flattery and charm filling me with a sweet sense of familiarity, "I'm sorry, beautiful. If I could've come back sooner, I would've."

"I know," I breathed, putting my hand on his thigh. He glanced down at it once, then started guzzling his food quicker. 

"I missed you," he told me once he was finished, putting his hand atop mine, "every day I did, was almost all I could think of; coming back to you. That's why I came first. Dutch wanted to send Micah but I made sure I got my way," he added, the corner of his mouth lifting with a hint of mischief. 

"I think we'd all rather see you riding in than Micah," I snorted. He smiled at me, his eyes so unmovingly focussed on mine. 

"I was nervous coming back. Wondered if there was even a gang to come back to," he admitted. "I saw the letter from my darling niece Caroline, back at Shady Belle," his smile widened. 

"That was Sadie's creative streak," I giggled. He exhaled a laugh through his nose then dipped his head, drawing my hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it. 

"I missed you," he repeated softly. 

"I missed you too," I whispered, hunching over and leaning close to him, the tops of our heads touching. "I kept your satchel and your journal safe. They're by my bedroll. I had to go inside to toss some bad food, I hope you don't mind," I told him. He made a small sound of appreciation. 

"Did you look inside my journal?" He asked curiously, not at all stern or disapproving.

"No, I promise," I answered honestly. He lifted his head to meet my eyes. 

"I'm a little surprised. Not even to see my drawings of you?" He queried. 

I shook my head. "It's yours. I didn't want to invade your privacy, not while I still had hope that you'd be coming back to me."

"That's sweet," he chuckled, "though I wouldn't've minded." 

I was touched by the admission. We parted only when Susan appeared before us, smiling at the sight of us despite her attempts to seem like she hadn't noticed our position. 

"There's a bucket of warm water waiting for you in the other shack, Mr. Morgan," she told him, "I got out your clothes and shaving things too, so you can get that thing off'a your chin," she added sternly. I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yes ma'am," he said, groaning as he pushed himself to his feet. He turned to me and twitched his head towards the door, gesturing for me to follow. I did so without question. 

We left the overcrowded shack and crossed the camp to the other one, all the while Arthur was looking around the place. 

"Quite a camp you've got here. I particularly liked the skulls on sticks over there, noticed 'em on the way in," he waved towards the entrance and I tutted at his dryness. 

"Those were my idea, I thought they made the place look homey. I'm glad you like them," I smiled sweetly at him. He shook his head in amusement as we entered the other building, ducking out of the still pouring rain. The bucket was there as promised, sitting atop a storage crate next to a chair that had a fresh change of clothes hanging off the back, and Arthur's shaving kit on the seat.

Arthur immediately began to strip, kicking his soggy boots off then pulling his shirt open, not bothering to undo the buttons. A couple popped off. The thing was completely ruined anyway, so I didn't blame him. Even his union suit hadn't escaped the grime, blood and dirt caked that too, but it seemed salvageable so he actually took the time to unbutton it. He peeled it from his shoulders, with his back to me I could see bruises and scrapes mottling his skin, purples and pinks and faded greens. A lump formed in my throat and I closed the gap between us, finally allowing myself to wrap my arms around him. 

I made him jump, and he froze for a moment before letting his hands come to rest on my arms where they wrapped around his front. I buried my face in his back – gently, to avoid pressing on any tender spots – smelling stagnant sweat, musk and sea on him but not caring one bit. 

"I ain't bathed in weeks," he murmured ashamedly, but it didn't stop me. 

"I don't care. I need this, just let me– I gotta hear your heartbeat for a while," I told him, turning my head and pressing my ear to the middle of his back. It was thrumming away in his chest, elevated but steady, there, undeniable. "I've been full of dread ever since I read about that boat going down." 

"I'm so sorry you had to go through all this," his voice was small. 

"I'm sorry about what _you_ went through! I don't care about how these weeks have been for me no more. All of that's gone by, you're back now."

"Baby, I wanna leave with you, get you away from this," he began, making my heart squeeze, though I sensed a but coming, "but we lost all the money we stole from the bank. Most of it's in the ocean."

"It's okay. It don't matter," I whispered, closing my eyes, "you're here." 

After a moment I let go of him so he could finish getting undressed. He turned to face me before he did anything, pinching my chin and bringing me close for a slow, languid kiss that felt like everything was right again. His beard tickled me, even more so when he moved his mouth to my neck, pressing his lips to the puckered scar across my throat. I giggled and squirmed, and he moved back.

"I really gotta shave," he sighed with a grin. 

"Come on," I whispered, reaching for his trousers, popping open the buttons as his breath hitched. I didn't mean to do anything inappropriate, so I quickly let go and allowed him to undress himself. 

He dropped his pants and union suit together, getting completely naked without a hint of shyness in front of me. I watched and admired as he turned to the bucket and started washing himself, using the bar of soap Susan had provided to cut through the dirt and grime he was covered in. I ended up helping him, taking a soapy washcloth and scrubbing at those hard to reach spots in the middle of his back. He groaned when I rubbed circles into his shoulders, and I took some time to give him a little massage, loosening the muscles there. 

I noticed that his bones were more prominent than they used to be, less cushion between them and his skin. 

"You haven't been able to eat much, have you?" I mused to him softly. He hummed in acknowledgement. 

"The only restaurant on the island did seafood, the boys and I never fancied it," he murmured. I resisted rolling my eyes at his sarcasm. 

"What happened there?" I asked carefully. He sighed, pausing to scrub at his face and hair. 

"Nothing good. We got captured, wrapped up in some bullshit with a sugar plantation owner and all the workers there. It's a long story, it ain't particularly interesting, either," he told me begrudgingly. I picked up on the hint that he didn't want to talk about it and stopped prodding. 

Once I'd got his back clean, I put the washcloth back in the bucket and slipped away from him, allowing him to wash himself. I rounded him, crossing the room and leaning on a table up against the wall. I could see more bruises on his front, hiding beneath his chest and stomach hair and painting his skin a blotchy blue-green. He didn't seem to mind me staring, meeting my eyes across the room as he scrubbed the bar of soap up and down his arms, under his armpits. It was silent save for the sploshing of water and the pittering of droplets hitting the floor. The room seemed to grow smaller.

"Uh, how were things here? You all get out okay, no Pinkertons caught up with you?" He asked after a moment, then averted his eyes so he could bend over and give his hair a proper wash. It was shoulder length, by then. 

"Yeah, we packed up when Abigail came back, figured we'd probably be moving. Then when Charles came back, Strauss mentioned this place. I showed Sadie and Charles the way, we ain't far from where I grew up. We cleared out the gang who lived here before," I told him, eyes dropping to the floor. I heard a splash and sensed him looking at me. 

"We? As in you too?" 

"Not… not really. I had to shoot one guy, he was going for Sadie," I told him. He let out a sad breath. 

"You okay?" He asked. 

I shrugged. "I had to do it. I gotta be okay." 

"Don't worry. We'll get out of here soon, you won't have to do any of that no more," he assured me quietly, prompting me to look at him. 

"You really still wanna go, after all that?"

"Especially after all that," he nodded, "Dutch is… well, he's starting to scare me a little."

"Why?" 

"Killing folk… no good reason to," he mumbled, almost like he didn't really want me to hear it. 

He finished washing up then turned to his shaving stuff, not bothering to dress first before he started trimming his beard to a manageable length. I didn't speak to him while he was working on it, not wanting to make him talk. He cut it back to a short stubble, turning his head back and forth in the mirror. 

"What do you think; even this up or just shave the whole lot off?" He asked me. My mouth rose at the corner involuntarily. 

"I always liked a little stubble on you," I told him, and with a nod he set to work trimming the hair more neatly, until it looked like a few days' growth, more like his usual self. 

"How's that?" He asked, rubbing his hand over his jaw, feeling for inconsistencies. I smiled and crossed the room again, closing the distance between us and taking his chin in my hand, tilting his head from side to side to admire him from all angles.

"I think you're just perfect," I told him and he was flustered, turning pink in the cheeks. I slid my hand down, resting it on his chest, his heart thumping fast under my palm. "Kiss me, I gotta make sure it feels right, too." 

He obliged instantly, pressing his mouth to mine, his lips working gently against mine as he turned his head. I opened my mouth to accept his tongue and moaned softly into his mouth, indulging in the familiarity of his taste. I'd missed him so much. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pressing myself up against him, getting my clothes damp from his skin in the process. His hands played at the back of my head, pushing through my hair. I trailed my hands up and down his bare back, fingertips sinking in just a touch, feeling the solidness of his muscles, the firmness of his being, revelling in his physical presence and his touch that I had missed so terribly. 

We broke away panting, mouths touching as we shared breaths. I kept my eyes closed as I allowed the words to slip from me with an exhale. "I love you." 

I felt Arthur go rigid in my arms, stopped feeling his breaths puff over my lips, his fingers stilling at the base of my skull. My heart sank and I didn't dare open my eyes. I'd longed to say those words to him in his absence and it felt so natural to tell him once he was back, I no longer had to fear the prospect of him never knowing how I felt about him, but I'd expected a different response. Perhaps even in my wildest dreams; to hear those words spoken back to me.

A sound something close to a hiccup came from Arthur and my eyes flashed open, I edged back a bit to see him better. His lips were pressed together and they trembled noticeably, his eyes were squeezed shut and his brow was heavily furrowed. I froze for a moment. 

"Arthur?" I whispered, moving my hands to his face, cupping his cheeks. "What is it?" My voice shook. 

It shocked me to see a tear roll down his cheek, followed by a sob that shook his chest and a stuttered, ragged breath sucked in through his teeth. He wrestled his way out of my hands and turned away, dragging his forearm across his eyes as he cleared his throat.

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I didn't mean– it's okay," I murmured, my arms limply reaching for him.

"No, I'm fine, I'm–" his voice was twice as gravelly as it usually was, like he was trying to hide the emotion in it. 

"Look at me. Please. I shouldn't have said that, maybe it was too fast," I breathed, shaking my head, ignoring the shameful tears wanting to well in my eyes. My cheeks burned and I felt mortified. I had reduced the man _to tears._

He turned to me, holding a reassuring hand towards me. "No! That's not– princess I– I don't know why I'm crying, I just couldn't– everything's so–" he stammered, unable to string a sentence together as the floodgates opened and more tears spilled down his cheeks. 

"You've been through so much, I'd be more confused if you didn't shed a few tears," I admitted, realisation hitting me as everything flooded my mind at once. Just in the last couple of months he'd watched a man get drowned by Dutch then torn to shreds by an alligator. He'd barely escaped the law after a bank heist gone wrong during which he'd watched Hosea, the closest thing he had to a father, get killed right in front of him. Then he'd almost died in a shipwreck and washed up on an island where God only knows what further trials he'd been put through. 

I wrapped my hand around his and pulled him towards me, throwing my arms around his shoulders and squeezing him into my chest. That seemed to pull the thread of his control until he unravelled, and he sobbed and shook and released everything. I shuffled us through the doorway into the other room, sitting us down on the bed. He hunched over and buried his face in my chest, so I combed my fingers through his wet hair and let him cry, pressing my wavering lips together and tried my damnedest not to join him. He needed me to be solid for him.

"I'm sorry," he told me through his tears and I made a quiet shushing sound. 

"Don't be. It's okay, Arthur. It's okay, you need this," I whispered, looking down at him. My hand shook as it slid over the back of his head, down the nape of his neck before starting at his crown again.

"Ho-Hosea, and–" he managed to choke out, and that was it for me. I was crying too. 

"I'm so sorry, I'm so, so sorry," I told him, sniffing and blinking my blurry vision clear. 

"I can't– I don't wanna do this–" he inhaled jerkily, choked on his own spit, I shushed him soothingly again. 

"It's okay, breathe," I reminded him. Tucking his hair behind his ear, straining to bend down and kiss the top of his head. 

"I can't do this!" His sob made the words come out loudly and my heart broke for him. 

"Baby, you're okay. I've got you, you ain't gotta do nothing just now," I tried my hardest to bring him some comfort but I knew nothing I could say would erase his lifestyle, the things he'd seen and the things we both knew he would likely keep on seeing. "I love you so much," I told him, my fear over saying it dissolving after seeing him in such a vulnerable state. I hoped knowing that would bring him some semblance of comfort, even if he could not say it back. He was loved. 

"I– I–" he choked, but each time he tried to speak he was interrupted by jerky inhales, and he gave up. 

"Just relax, breathe, baby," I whispered, finding myself rocking from side to side a little as if I was soothing a baby or something. 

It seemed to do something, though, because after a moment his breaths gradually slowed down, though they still came out stuttered. I whispered that I loved him over and over, relieved to feel him relaxing in my arms, eventually his breathing returned almost to normal, only hiccuping on his deeper breaths. He was soon quiet and still against my chest, and I kissed the top of his head again. 

"You're okay," I repeated, too dumb to think of anything with more substance to say, but wanting him to know it. 

We stayed like that for a long time, his face pressed between my breasts but in a way that felt the furthest thing from sexual. I continued to stroke his head, my hand travelling further down his back each time, my nails lightly tracing over his skin in a way I hoped felt nice. After a while, I felt him shift, moving to sit back up. He rubbed at his bloodshot eyes, dragged his arm across his nose and sniffed loudly and wetly. 

"Okay?" I cooed gently, my hand against his upper back, tracing small circles. I waited patiently for him to say something, letting him go at his own pace. 

"I'm– thank you. I got a little… overwhelmed. Sorry you had to see me like that," he finally said, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. 

"Don't apologise. I'm here for you, Arthur, don't be ashamed of having emotions," I reassured him, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. 

"Thanks," he breathed, wiping away the remaining wetness on his face. 

My shirt was damp from his tears – probably snot too – and I didn't mind. I felt glad that I could be there for him for such a release, everyone needed to cry once in a while. I dried my own eyes too, hiding the few tears that had escaped before Arthur could see them. 

"When– when you said that… please don't think you upset me," he turned to look into my eyes, "when you said that, it made me real happy. For a second everything felt like it was perfect, and then I suddenly remembered everything else. The Pinkertons, Dutch, the money… Hosea," his eyes looked wet again but he blinked it back. 

"Arthur," I breathed almost silently, tilting my head at him. 

"All I want now is to be with you and to make you happy but it feels like everything else is always caving in, making it impossible. I just want you, that's what's important, I see that now clearer than ever and it just makes me feel so–" he shook his head, giving up on finding the right word– "that I can't just make it happen."

"Don't put that on yourself. I ain't expecting anything, things are more complicated now than they've ever been," I shook my head. 

"My darlin', I'm sorry I never said, I couldn't do it while I was all snotty and foolish. I love you too," he sniffed, looking up at me. Hearing those words from him was all I could ever hope for, I felt something close to euphoria, goosebumps rose on my arms. " _So much._ I was so happy to hear you say it but everything just came to the surface, you know? Just tipped me over." 

"Maybe I should've warned you," I murmured sheepishly and he let out a breathy laugh, his eyes shining. 

"No, you did nothing wrong. You're perfect," he closed in on me, cupping my cheek and kissing me. He pulled back to murmur against my lips, "look at me, I'm a mess. Sittin' here crying with everything hangin' out. What do you see in me?" 

"You're everything to me," I told him seriously, and he kissed me again. 

"You're too good to me," he shook his head. 

"You deserve so much love," I asserted, caressing his face. He closed his eyes and released a long, peaceful breath. 

"It feels so good to be back, even in this hellhole of a swamp where everything constantly wants to eat you," he said, I wasn't sure if he was referring to the alligators or the bugs, or both. "I was terrified I'd never see you again." 

"Me too," I nodded. 

"I ain't ever had a worse few weeks, but seeing you again makes me feel like the luckiest man alive," he said, and I shook my head at the bold statement, especially considering the terrible luck that had plagued him recently. 

I pressed my lips to his, wrapping my arms around his neck, leaning into him. My fingers threaded through his long hair, tightening in his locks, he groaned quietly against my lips when I pulled slightly to tilt his head more. We broke away breathless after a few moments, and Arthur's eyes dropped to my mouth.

"I should probably put my clothes on, 'case someone comes in," he said half-heartedly. 

"I don't think anyone's coming. Probably think we're making up for lost time," I shrugged one shoulder, lips curling into an amused smirk. Arthur's eyes flickered up to mine at that, holding them for a few long seconds. Our communication was wordless, and he pulled me in for another kiss.


	48. Making Up For Lost Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and reader get ‘reacquainted’ (yes, it’s smut), then Micah and Javier return.

I ended up on top of him, straddling his thighs on the bed as his hands firmly explored my body, squeezing my backside, sweeping up my sides, thumbs wrapping around to swipe over my nipples through my shirt. My body lit up so fast, it felt so good to have his hands on me again after so long without them. I didn't care that we were at camp and I'd vowed not to do anything so intimate there again after Dutch's interruption, hell, someone could catch us in the act and I'd tell them to go away and simply carry on. I needed Arthur in that moment. I needed to be as close and connected with him as physically possible and to be joined with him in such a precious way was all I could think about. 

My skirts were bunched up around my waist and I scooted forwards, up his legs and to his hips, feeling his hard length nestle between my legs, against my core through the opening in my drawers. The sound Arthur made flooded me with need and his hips jerked, bucking up against me.

"Fuck," I breathed, trying to think straight, "are you sure about this? You just got back, must be exhausted–"

"Oh I'm sure," he blurted out, kissing me hard on the mouth. 

"And your bruises–" I pulled my mouth back enough to add, and he grunted in a careless response, kissing down past my jaw despite my concerns.

"I need you, I need–" Arthur slurred, his mouth pressed to the side of my neck, which was wet with spit and sensitive from his eager sucking and biting. "I ain't stopping for nothin', exhausted or not."

"Arthur," I sighed, my half-hearted hesitance floating away.

"I don't ever wanna let you go," he told me.

"You won't have to. I'm yours, don't matter where you are in the world," I sighed, rubbing against him, sliding against his erection, surprised at how wet it was, not just from me. 

"Yeah?" He gasped, his hand squeezing the back of my shirt, pulling it up to untuck it from my skirt. I momentarily sat up and pulled it up over my head. "Mm, take it– take it all off," he pleaded softly. 

I nodded, my lips parted, breaths flowing fast and loud. I grappled with the back of my skirt and petticoat, loosening them, wrestling them up and over my head so I wouldn't have to lift my hips away from the comforting, familiar warmth of him.

"Fuck, so pretty," he whispered, his hands were almost clumsy in the way they dragged up my sides, over the edges of my corset underneath my corset cover. I removed that so he could see where his hands were going and he groaned at the sight before him. He always seemed to like seeing me in my corset. His erection twitched against me and I bit my lip, bracing my hands against his chest and indulging in the urge to rub against him. His eyes glazed a little, lips parting. I looked down to watch the head of his cock emerge between my legs with each grind of my hips. His lower belly glistened with the clear stuff dripping from him, far more profusely than I'd ever noticed before. 

I met his eyes again as I popped open the front of my corset, dropping it behind me and reaching to lift my chemise off too. My breasts caught his attention immediately, my nipples were hard and he took me in his palms, fondling me carefully, sitting up abruptly to replace his hand with his mouth. He sucked on one nipple, rolling it underneath his tongue and humming indulgently before doing the same to the other, then he pressed his face between them. Ragged breaths rolled over my belly, Arthur cupped my breasts again, squeezing them up and nestling his face between them more firmly, inhaling and releasing a sound that was desperate, wanton. There was wetness, hot and breathy as his tongue lathed over my flesh. He was so bold. So eager to do as he felt, his self control much looser than it had been before.

I groaned and arched against him, my hips tilting back and pressing my clit against his shaft, I wiggled from side to side, whimpering at the stimulation it provided. I untied my drawers at the waist, letting the fabric fall back. I tried kicking them down my legs but it would mean sitting up and away from him, so in the end I left them be considering they weren't in the way.

"Shall I– are we rolling over or–?" I stammered dumbly and Arthur lifted his head. His eyes were fogged over with intense arousal and his face was cherry red, not only from the sunburn. He gripped my hips with a sense of urgency. 

"No, stay on top, I wanna watch you like this," he told me. My heart twitched with nerves but I was far too turned on to chicken out, so I reached between my legs, taking him in my hand and guiding him to my entrance. Given I had always previously had an orgasm before that point, I wasn't sure what to expect, but it was easier than anticipated to sink down onto him and we shared a gasp as we were joined together. 

My fingertips pressed into his chest as I steadied myself and prepared to move. I wasn't entirely sure _how_ to move in this position. It was different to when I was just grinding against him, I hesitated, but I was soon overcome with the irresistible need to move. I leaned forwards a little, raising my hips behind me, dropping them back down. It seemed to do the trick, so I repeated it, speeding up, soon learning the range I had to avoid losing our connection any more than a couple of times. I didn't anticipate how hard it would be to establish a steady rhythm, and was filled with appreciation for how Arthur just seemed to manage that whenever he was in charge. 

Jerky rhythm be damned, Arthur wasn't complaining. He rolled his head back against the pillows and stared past the tip of his nose at me with lidded eyes, glistening lips hanging open and letting out an array of pleasant sighs and moans. His hands gripped the curve where my thighs met my hips and he supported my movement with strength in his arms. Arms that I could admire better in this angle, watching the flex of his muscles– fuck, he was so handsome, I squeezed around him, enjoying the pulse of pleasure that always brought. 

"Fuck, that's right. Good girl, Christ, you're perfect," Arthur exhaled, and his praise sent a shiver through me. I moved quicker, riding him fast enough and hard enough to make a smacking sound each time my thighs drove down.

He kept glancing down at my chest, watching the way my breasts bounced, licking his lips and snaking one hand up my side as if tempted to touch. 

"I ain't gonna last two minutes," he grunted, "this is one hell of a view." 

I experimented, smiling at him as I sat back, giving him a better view of my chest as I tried to ride him in a more upright position. My thighs ached from exertion, not used to moving in such a manner whilst kneeling, but I felt too good to let it stop me. I trailed my hands down his front, to his lower abdomen where I scratched my nails through his body hair. I felt his abs squeeze below my fingers at my touch and he growled out in pleasure. 

"Mm, this is fun," I noted, trusting myself enough to start moving in different ways, rolling my hips in circles with my bounces, relishing the new ways his cock stimulated me. My eyes slipped closed and I leaned my head back a little, humming my enjoyment. "Oh God, this is incredible."

"You're gonna kill me, fuck, look at you," Arthur moaned, letting go of my side. I wondered where his hand was going only for half a second, then his thumb was pressed against my clit. I let out a high pitched, surprised wail of pleasure, visibly shuddering. My muscles twitched around him and he sucked air through his teeth. 

So long since I'd had any pleasure, my climax drew near much faster than usual, especially with his thumb swiping back and forth over that sensitive button. I couldn't resist lowering myself down fully onto him, leaning back as I rocked my hips in small circles that ground his cock inside me in a way that felt _incredible_. I sighed his name, forcing my eyes open to look at him. His eyes were on my face, his own expression loose and soft and unmistakably pleasured. 

"I love you," he moaned, making my insides flutter. I gasped, rocking quicker, chasing the orgasm that I was teetering on the edge of. "Say… say it back," he pleaded breathlessly.

"Arthur, I love you," I happily obliged, his brow furrowed and his teeth clamped over his lip. His thumb worked faster and I started to lose myself, "I love you! I love– I'm gonna cum," I cried out, reaching a hand to my breast, rolling my nipple between my thumb and finger.

"Shit, I'm so– you feel so–" he growled, cutting himself off with a sharp inhale when my pleasure rose and my muscles began to squeeze around him. 

My orgasm built in intensity, building and building and feeling impossibly good before the colours even burst behind my eyes with its crescendo. I gasped and released a high pitched moan once it did, momentarily falling in love with Arthur's thumb as it rubbed my clit throughout it all, never stopping, making it absolutely incredible. The pleasure was so intense it blinded me and made me wish I could feel it all over again once it began to ebb, but perhaps I was just being greedy.

By the time it was over my thighs were screaming, I panicked for a moment that I would never be able to carry on long enough to bring Arthur his release, but I needn't have worried. Just a few thrusts after me, he grappled for my hips urgently, gripping almost bruisingly tight, dislodging me so I fell forwards, his cock behind me, standing up as hard as stone against my backside. His hips bucked desperately, rutting his length against me with his grunts and his gasps and then he was cumming. He made a huge mess, spurting uncontrollably over my ass and his own thighs, the sheets below us. I watched his face as it happened, all contorted and serious, tense at first then slacking as the pleasure washed through him. His moans came low and breathless, surprisingly quiet, as if they were coming out as an afterthought, he was too absorbed to vocalise properly.

I cupped his cheek and petted his hair as he came down, inhaling with his exhale, our chests pressed together so tight and moving as one; both as out of breath as each other. I'd never been happier in my life.

I launched forward and kissed him, feeling his hands go to my backside, squeezing each cheek as I kissed him with all the enthusiasm and vigour he'd come to expect from me. He moaned into my mouth, and when I pulled back minutely he was still in the haze of his pleasure and his voice was a low rumble, thick with lust.

"One day I'm'a do that inside you while you're finishin' too."

Everything throbbed. I was far too sensitive for him to be saying things like that and I _moaned_.

"Fuck," I whispered, watching his lips curl into an amused and dirty smile.

"Mm, sorry, that weren't me sayin' that," he added after a second. 

"Who was it then?" I asked, and Arthur needed a few seconds to think.

"Tacitus Kilgore." 

"Oh, of course. Then I expect it was Jemima Jones doing that moaning," I smirked.

"She's a noisy little thing, ain't she?"

I narrowed my eyes playfully at him.

"Noisy, perhaps, but not half as messy as Mr. Kilgore," I retorted, and Arthur snorted a laugh. 

"I can't exactly argue with that. Let's get cleaned up," he said. Although I didn't want to move, I agreed and climbed off of him, kicking away the drawers still hanging around my ankles as I did.

We both headed into the other room and used what was left of the now-cool water to clean ourselves up. We figured we ought to get dressed too, in case anyone decided to check on us. I went to retrieve my things from the other room, dressing quickly as Arthur did the same. 

"You wanna go back over there with the others?" I asked as I finished buttoning my shirt. Arthur met my eyes with an off-put look. 

"Much as I missed 'em, being so crammed in with everyone ain't that appealing. 'specially not after we just done that, could do with some time to cool down. Maybe hold you for a while, if you'll let me."

"Always," I beamed at him. 

We laid back down on the bed, Arthur scooting up behind me and wrapping his arms around me. I folded my arms over the top of his and he slotted his legs between mine, entwining us completely, then he pressed his face into the back of my neck and hummed a pleasant sound. 

"I missed this," he told me. "Felt lonely in Guarma."

"Did you?" I cooed softly, turning my head just slightly. I felt him nod. 

"Didn't realise how much I'd gotten used to sleeping so close to you. I like being able to turn over and see you there, make sure you're okay. Didn't feel right while I was away, I worried about you." 

"I was fine. I missed you like I can't even describe, but I survived it thanks to the others. Charles and Abigail especially," I told him, stroking my fingertips over his arm hair.

"I told Charles to look after you," he whispered, pressing his face into the back of my shoulder and nuzzling in like he wanted to get closer and closer– "silly as I must'a looked to everyone else."

"He did a good job. Didn't let me get away with bottling stuff up. He's a good friend, I think I'd've been a lot worse off without him," I admitted. He shifted, and I felt his forehead against my shoulder, allowing his voice to come out less muffled. 

"I'll make sure to thank him," he said, "though I know you're capable of handling yourself, I'm glad it was Charles who came back and he was around to make sure you and the others were all safe."

"Sadie too, she's really stepped up since you've all been gone. Got everyone back on their feet. Between you and me, I reckon she could run this gang better than–" I let the sentence drop, not wanting to finish it and risk spoiling the mood. 

"Between you and me I wouldn't be surprised," Arthur grumbled, a sharpness to his tone that surprised me, though I knew it wasn't directed at me in anger. "But it don't matter much, he'll be back soon."

"Not too soon, I hope."

"Nah, I believe we have the privilege of gettin' Micah back first. Don't know who's coming after that… Javier's got a bad leg, maybe Dutch'll send 'em together," I felt him shrug. His voice was slowly petering into something disinterested and tired. I didn't press him on the subject.

"If you want to sleep, don't let me keep you awake," I whispered.

"Wish I could be awake just to be with you, but I feel myself dozin'. You tired me out," he murmured, humour seeping into his tone. 

"But I did all the work, just let you lie back for a change," I reminded him playfully. He hummed. 

"You forget, I'm an old man, now," he said, his words becoming difficult to decipher with his face pressed into my back and his sleepiness taking over. 

"Old man," I repeated with a scoff, "go to sleep, sweetheart," I added, an endeared smile on my face. 

"Don't get up 'soon as I fall asleep," he pleaded and I frowned a little. 

"Course I won't," I promised.

"Want you with me when I wake up," he added, a smoochy kissing sound followed his words and I could've cried again. 

"I promise I'll be here."

-

It didn't take long for me to notice how Arthur was more openly affectionate after his return. He was affectionate with me before, of course, but never so unashamed to be like that in front of others. In the days after his arrival he wasn't afraid to touch me; when we were sitting close by, he would snake his arm around my waist, or pull me to sit on his lap or between his legs, he would hold my hand whenever I wasn't doing anything with it, and he'd come up behind me to take me into his arms when I was working on chores. Nobody seemed to mind. They noticed, for sure, we had a few heads turning at the beginning, but mostly they just smiled and looked away. 

That all changed when Micah made it back. 

When he first walked through the door for a moment I was happy. I didn't particularly enjoy the man's company after our various squabbles, but I was glad that he hadn't been harmed. I didn't wish for harm to come to anyone, even him or Dutch. But the reaction Micah got was clearly not what he expected when he entered. We had been expecting him, of course, so he got a rather unenthusiastic welcome, just some gentle inquiries about his well-being and an offer of food and water. No hugs or cheers or celebrations. But he must've been deluding himself if that's what he thought he'd be getting, with the way he pressed everyone's buttons. 

He kept quiet for a while, accepting a serving of the fish Pearson had caught and cooked for us all, sat himself down in the corner and ate it with a perpetual scowl as everyone went back to their business. The girls got up to return to their chores. People switched over for guard duty. Others left the shack to get some fresh air until it was just a few left inside besides Micah; Miss Grimshaw, Arthur, and myself. 

Arthur was sat on my bedroll, leaning up against the wall, and I was sat sideways between his legs, snuggled up against his chest with my sketchbook on my lap; I was showing him the drawings I'd done since he'd been gone and we were speaking quietly. Just breathy, low words passed between us, intimate and careful not to disturb anyone else in the room. 

"You drew Charles again," he murmured quietly, taking the sketchbook and turning it to get a better view, his eyes flickering across the page. "I remember you drawing him when we went hunting." 

"I like drawing him," I replied softly, my shoulder lifting, "he don't mind it. I drew that while he was makin' arrows, so he was sitting pretty still for a bit. Best time for it."

"You shown him this?" He asked, and I nodded, "it's real good. He like it?"

"He was very kind about it, of course," I smiled. He turned the page to yet another drawing of himself. There'd been at least four others. I felt my face burn. "You'll get sick of seeing yourself in there, I promise I drew other stuff, I have one of Abigail–" I murmured, taking the book and flicking through the pages noisily and briskly. I felt his eyes on me. 

"I wasn't gonna complain. It's flattering, 'specially since I weren't around for you to look at and you did it from memory. You were real generous, I don't look as friendly as that, I'm sure," he chuckled.

"You do when you look at me," I shrugged.

"Well, I guess you bring out the best in me," he said under his breath, pushing his face forward, forehead touching mine as his lips curled into a smile. I shook with a breathy laugh and tilted my chin up, gently pecking his lips once, twice–

"Ahh, will you give it a rest? Jesus Christ it's like being in a brothel," Micah complained through the doorway into the other room. He wasn't close to us by any means, but we were in his line of sight. Arthur and I leaned away from one another, looking towards him. "You think any of us wanna hear that?"

"Hear what?" Miss Grimshaw's voice travelled through the door too, though we couldn't see her. Micah turned to her, gesturing with his arm towards us.

"Them pair, sticking their tongues down each other's throats."

"Oh, leave 'em be, Mr. Bell, they ain't harming no one," she scolded.

"Harmin' my appetite," he muttered. 

I felt Arthur sigh, his chest heaving. He patted my knee, hinting for me to climb off of him. I looked at him in disappointment. 

"We don't have to go," I whispered and he shook his head softly.

"I know, princess, but I ought'a make a move anyway, Sadie said she was gonna fill me in on everything that happened while I was away. Wanted to talk to me about Marston," he said, and I nodded, moving off of his lap. He moved onto one knee, going to get up but pausing half-way to take my face in his hands and press a deep, loud, indulgent kiss on my lips that I knew was probably partly to piss Micah off. Not that I minded.

It must have worked, because an irritated grunt met my ears from across the room. 

Arthur got up then, left with a final glance over his shoulder at me. I exhaled when he left, slumping back against the wall. We'd been practically inseparable since his return, I almost didn't know what to do with myself once he was gone.

I watched Micah for a while, observing the way he shovelled his food into his mouth, his brow set low over his eyes. He looked as grubby and dishevelled as Arthur had when he turned up, his hair greasy and tucked back behind his ears, his moustache overgrown and getting all caked in food, he had cuts and bruises all over him. Nobody had hugged him or surrounded him like they had Arthur. He looked so alone and neglected that I almost felt sorry for him. In fact I did, just a little bit. 

Eventually I found myself getting up, making my way towards him. Micah's eyes flicked up to me as I approached, and his brows came down harsher over his icy eyes. I offered him a smile and his face only scrunched further. It was hardly the response I was looking for. 

"What do you want?" He asked, and I cocked a brow.

"Nothing! I just thought I'd come and see how you're doing," I sighed, pulling a chair out beside him. 

Micah stared at me for some time, eyes narrowed. "I'm fine." 

"Are you hurt? You're a little cut up," I noted, looking at a particularly deep cut on his forearm.

"What's it to you? You don't care," he muttered.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Fine, I tried," I went to get up again, but he sighed. 

"I'm fine. Ain't nothing that won't heal on its own," he finally responded, "but thank you, I suppose, for askin'."

"Okay, good," I nodded, then looked down at his plate. "We ain't best friends, but we ain't enemies, neither. Remember that."

"Your attack dog kicked me in the face, remember that?" He hissed, and I snorted. 

"You deserved that," I told him, "you know you did."

Micah hummed, not quite agreeing but certainly acknowledging.

"How're you feeling after all the chaos of the last few weeks?" I asked him after a moment. 

"How am I feeling?" His words came out harsh and irritated, "just dandy. Is what it is, what can I say? We're all alive, ain't we?"

"Not all of us," I pointed out sadly. He met my eyes for a second, then looked down at his plate and finished the rest of his food with a subtle shrug of his shoulders. I frowned. 

"Shit happens," he muttered. "Don't look at me like that."

"I'm not gonna engage with this," I said, rising to my feet. 

"Yeah, off you pop," he said condescendingly. "Never cared about my answer anyways." 

"Maybe I didn't. Maybe I really don't give a shit how you're feeling, but some of us are polite enough to pretend, at least," I shrugged my shoulders, my tone dry and pissed off.

"Mm, you're a real peach," he called, striking a match and lighting the cigarette he placed between his lips. 

"You know it," I muttered, leaving the shack and closing the door behind me, catching it at the last minute to stop it from slamming, knowing Miss Grimshaw wouldn't appreciate it if it did. I sighed when I was alone. So much for an attempt to extend an olive branch. Fuck him. 

I had left in time to see Lenny coming in from where he was guarding the edge of camp, someone was with him, a slight limp to his gait. His head was turned down so I couldn't see his face, but the long hair – though dirty and unkempt – was familiar. 

"Javier!" I exclaimed, jogging over to him. "You're back! Are you okay? Your leg–"

"I'm fine, it's okay, got into a scrape, but I'll live. Man, am I glad to see you people," he let out a breathy laugh as he lifted his head. I put a hand on his upper back and kept it there for some support as we headed towards the shack. 

"I'll tell Miss Grimshaw, she can take a look at that leg," Lenny said, jogging ahead into the shack. 

"It's so good to see you safe, we've been so worried about you fellers," I told Javier, walking with him the rest of the way.

"Ahh, we're tough as nails. It'll take more than a tropical vacation to split us all up, huh?" He chuckled. We made it into the shack, and I pushed open the door and guided him inside. 

"Mr. Escuella," Micah greeted him, his tone was curt, enunciating each syllable of his name. Javier gave a nod to him in response. I pulled a chair out for him, sitting him down. 

"Arthur make it back yet?" He asked.

"Yeah, he's back. He was going to speak to Sadie," I told him, my smile widening at his mention.

People started filtering into the room to see Javier as word spread of his arrival, patting him on the back, hugging him, asking how he was, telling him how happy they were to see him. Everything that Micah never got. He watched on with a sour expression, smoking his cigarette in silence. 

"Dutch will be back soon. Bill too. How're things here?" Javier asked, glancing around at the faces surrounding him. 

"Not that great," Abigail admitted, "we're getting through by the skin of our teeth," she added, and everyone nodded in agreement. 

"When Dutch gets back, we'll have to figure out what we're doing next, and fast. Ain't too safe here, won't be long before the Pinkertons catch up," Sadie said. 

I felt someone's presence behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Arthur joining the group. His hand settled on my lower back discreetly.

"Javier, good to see you, my friend," he said, leaning over to pat his shoulder.

"Out of the way, all of you, I hear there's a leg that needs seeing to," Miss Grimshaw came barrelling through between Tilly and Mary-Beth, medical kit in hand. People dispersed again, letting her work her magic. 

"Want me to get you some food and water?" I asked Javier, and he craned his neck to look back at me. 

"Please, muñequita. I could eat anything right now, even Pearson's food sounds good," he teased and Mr. Pearson, who was just outside the door, heard. 

"Watch I don't spit in it, Escuella," he said, but when he rounded the corner with a plate of food, he was smiling. "I'm way ahead of you, Pearson's got the food covered," he said to me as he put the plate down next to Javier on the table. 

"I'll get you some water," I smiled, squeezing his shoulder before heading outside to the barrel of fresh water. I filled a cup, and headed back inside to hand it to him. 

"What do you think we'll do once everyone is back together?" He asked us all. Miss Grimshaw made a humming sound.

"I've no idea. I hope Dutch has some brilliance up his sleeve," she said. 

"We'll be fine," I reassured everyone. "Just keep thinking hopeful thoughts."

"Ain't you cheerful?" Micah drawled, and I looked him in the eye.

"My sense is no one would prefer misery," I shrugged. "Things will be better once everyone is back home."

"If you say so," he murmured.


	49. Smoke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! We’re back! With a rather dramatic chapter… Y’all know what happens after the boys return from Guarma, right? So a few warnings: gunfights, violence, injury, accidents, angst, fire… just a not very happy good times chapter. I hope it was worth the wait, though <3

Dutch returned in the evening, bursting in through the door looking absolutely nothing like himself. Everyone stopped and stared, quickly reacting with relief and joy at his return, but I could do no more than stare from the other side of the room. He looked so different. And not just because his hair wasn't perfectly swept back, shirt neatly tucked in, or pocket square sitting perfectly in his vest pocket. He was unsurprisingly dishevelled. But his eyes… there was something in them. Something different that made me feel uncomfortable for the short second they settled on me as they scanned the room. They looked darker, somehow. Not like him.

I hung back and watched as everyone celebrated his safety, relayed to him what had happened to the rest of us, told him of Sadie's strength in keeping everyone together in his absence. I could practically feel the authority falling away from her now, though, with Dutch back, he would sit back on his throne. I felt sick at the thought, for reasons I couldn't fully establish. I wasn't relieved that he was back.

I snapped out of my cold stare when I felt someone at my side. Charles. He looked at me, his eyes questioning, I forced a smile at him. 

"Almost a full set. Just waitin' on Bill," I breathed, and Charles nodded. 

"Bill ain't back yet? He left before I did," Dutch said, overhearing me. 

"Oh, Christ," Arthur hissed, shoulders dropping in irritation. 

"Where's that idiot got to? Weren't that hard finding everybody," Micah piped up. I winced. 

Reading my mind, Abigail said, "that's what I'm worried about. How long till the Pinkertons find us?"

"Everybody, it's okay. We– we'll– we'll figure things out," Dutch said, holding his hand out reassuringly. 

"We tried leaving clues for you fellers, letters at the post office, back at Shady Belle," Sadie said, and Dutch nodded knowingly. 

"That was good thinking. We'll always find each other," Dutch said, to a murmur of agreement around the room. He sipped from the drink handed to him and moved to sit down on the chair given up for him.

I jumped out of my skin when someone else barrelled through the open door. Speak of the devil…

"Well, here you is! I asked everyone I could find and eventually someone knew, said you fools were out here," Bill growled out, stomping into the room, throwing his weight about. I raised my brows. He snapped at Sadie to get him something to drink, quickly put in his place, of course. 

Despite his colourful entry, I was glad to see Bill. His return meant that we could all leave. We'd find somewhere new and far away from Saint Denis and all the Pinkertons and we could get back on our feet without such a heavy threat so close to our doorstep. It wasn't what I wanted, exactly, I wanted to get away with Arthur once and for all but with the state of the shattered remains of the gang – his family – I figured that wasn't going to happen for some time. I accepted it, somewhat. I could be patient, as long as it happened someday… 

But then we heard a voice not belonging to any one of us. One I'd heard before and it struck ice into my chest and made me feel as though the floor was tilting and bile was rising in my throat. 

"This is Agent Milton with the Pinkerton Detective Agency!" It was coming from outside. Hairs stood up on my arms as Dutch stood up again, crept to the window. Arthur moved too. My head shook of its own accord and I stared at his back. I knew it wasn't a social call. 

Milton droned on outside, legal word vomit, translating roughly to "you're all fucked", filtering in through the rickety wooden walls of the house serving as the only barrier between us and them. Sadie began urging people into the back room, putting as much distance between us and the agents outside, I looked at her with wide, fearful eyes as she guided me by the elbow towards the back wall, away from Arthur. Arthur, who was still by the window, readying his gun, _preparing to go up against God knows how many men._ I could've thrown up if I wasn't so dry in the mouth. 

"No, Arthur–" I mewled, voice small and quiet and even more pathetic than I feared. He didn't hear me, of course, far too focused on the danger present, the law constantly breathing down our necks finally here as a threat, a real, massive threat. A real, massive Gatling gun, pointing right at us. 

A hand wrapped around my wrist and yanked me down. It was Charles, he backed into the corner next to me, and I butted up to the ladder leading to the bunk above our heads, peering through the hammocks strung up in front of me to watch Arthur, just seconds before the almighty sound of a weapon far more terrifying and powerful than any gun I had ever fired made my ears ring. Dust kicked up, splinters shattered into the room, I screamed and ducked down, folding my arms over the back of my head as I pressed my face into the ground. I was panting heavily, tensing up and squeezing my eyes shut as the house we were in was ripped to shreds by the Pinkertons' bullets. Involuntary sounds left me as I slid flat onto my belly, my legs splayed out behind me as I tried to press myself as flush to the floor as possible. 

I turned my head, noticing how Charles was merely crouching and I sobbed as I tugged on his shirt, begging for him to get down. For those moments, I was absolutely certain that Arthur was dead. The way the powerful machine gun had fired so quickly, so relentlessly, its bullets not stopping for anything with barely a warning while Arthur had been standing so close to the window– 

"Arthur! Follow me!" Sadie's words brought me immense relief, but not half as much as hearing his voice–

"Just stay down, all of you!" He yelled, I could hear him behind me, I turned and looked and saw him crawling towards the door, gunfire screaming past above his head. He met my eyes for half a second, his were wide, focused, yet panicked. He looked away, passed me, made it to the door. He could not afford to stop and comfort me, and he was gone.

Something shattered, there was a burst of light and then a lot of confusion. A lot of heat. Screaming, too, firstly a scream of shock from Tilly. But then I was screaming. My leg felt like it was ice cold, like I'd just jumped into Lake Isabella, I wondered what the hell was going on and then my brain righted itself. It wasn't cold, it was _burning._ I was so confused and people surrounded me, blankets and rags covering me and hands battering my lower half, Charles yelling, holding my shoulders still, keeping me on the ground, a heavy weight that wasn't the reason I couldn't breathe. The smell of smoke and cooking meat choked me and I retched, nothing coming up but a series of painful coughs. 

Searing agony in my left leg, almost the whole thing from my ankle to my thigh. Intense, unrelenting, I could do nothing but panic and scream and cry because I couldn't move at all, not with the hands on me. I pictured the scene behind me. I was on fire, I understood that much, I envisioned a giant fire engulfing the entire lower half of me, spitting and hissing and roasting me alive as people tried in vain to put it out. It'd spread. Soon it'd swallow me whole. This was how I was going to die, I was going to burn alive at the hands of the Pinkerton Detective Agency. 

"You're okay! You're okay, just _breathe,_ " Charles' voice came into focus, everything was so loud. I was moved, my head shifted onto something warm and soft, hands on my head, fingers pushing my hair from my eyes and my mouth, shaking, I was being shaken, or rocked. I opened my eyes and saw a lot of blue. Charles' shirt. He was hunched over me, cradling my head in his lap. 

I raked in a raw breath that hurt my throat. I must've screamed a lot, I felt like I'd swallowed sharp gravel. An indiscernible length of time passed and the gunfire kept on going, my leg kept on burning, sharp and insistent and pulling almost every bit of my attention. I laid draped over Charles' lap, my face pressed into what I assumed was his stomach, my arms around him and clinging to his shirt, just gripping, holding on for dear life as I waited and waited for everything to be over, wondering if this was how I was spending my final moments.

And then it all stopped. It stopped, and I was still alive. In a lot of pain, burning and burning, not getting any better. Was I still on fire? I couldn't hear the crackle of flames anymore. But I could smell smoke. I thanked God the burning flesh smell was gone, though. What had happened to me? What did I look like from the waist down? Jesus Christ how bad was it? I daren't move. Couldn't if I wanted to. Every shift shot up my leg and made me gasp and every muscle felt tight and rigid, stiff. 

Charles said my name. Others did too, it sounded like Tilly and Mary-Beth, people talking and fussing. More hands on me, my skirt being lifted, more _pain._

"Somebody get some water," Charles said, commanding and loud, not at all level and placid like he usually was. 

Heavy, stomping, urgent footsteps. "What the hell happened?" Arthur! Oh, Arthur, he was alive! He was _angry._

"Lantern got shot, the flames got to her skirt. We put it out as quick as we could," Charles explained, all news to me too, "come on, it's okay, I need to move you," he said to me, taking his hands to my arms, lifting them. I had to work to unclasp my hands from his shirt.

"All I heard was her screaming and screaming– I thought she'd been shot, Jesus Christ, I thought she–" Arthur was panicked and loud, my ears were buzzing but everything was still so _loud._

Charles picked me off of him, turning me onto my back, a pair of hands on my boots held my feet up and guided me until I was sitting upright against the wall, lifted back there by strong hands underneath my arms. I was breathing fast and heavy and I hadn't opened my eyes yet, scared of what I'd see of my body. I gasped and jolted as water was splashed over my leg. It felt freezing, unnaturally so. But I didn't trust myself to gauge temperature anymore.

My hand was pried from my skirt where I hadn't even realised I'd started gripping, our fingers slotting together in a way so tender and intimate it made me open my eyes to ensure that it wasn't Charles, I was disoriented to find that he wasn't by my side anymore, replaced by Arthur. His face was stricken, he stared at me, lips parted, his other hand going to my cheek, turning my face to him, he covered my view of my legs as more water flowed over me. It soothed me some, but the burning persisted. 

"Oh, darlin', I'm so sorry," he told me, his voice cracking. I shook my head. _Don't feel bad because of me!_

"Is it bad?" I murmured, my lips feeling dry and stiff. Arthur turned his head. 

"It ain't as bad as I thought, it's blistered but only on the calf, the rest of the leg ain't so bad, but it's gotta hurt," someone else said in response, Tilly. 

"Oh, my lord does it hurt," I breathed, almost managing to laugh. 

"Ain't never heard anyone scream like that, I thought I was coming back in here to a– I wanted to come back right away but the- the Pinkertons–" Arthur started, shaking his head the whole time. His eyes were wet.

"What do we do, Miss Grimshaw?" Tilly asked.

"It needs dressing. And she needs something for the pain, we got any whiskey left?" Came Susan's response. 

"We ran out of booze weeks ago," Uncle announced from some far away location.

"I wonder who drank it all," Pearson's murmur didn't go unheard.

"Oh, don't start!" Karen yelled.

"I didn't even look at you!"

"Yeah, but I know what you meant, you miserable old shit stirrer." 

"I meant Uncle!"

_"Excuse me?!"_

"Shut up, the lot of you!" Arthur snapped, a growl of a shout I had never heard directed at anyone in the gang but Micah. "I got a bottle in my damn satchel," he added retrieving it, pushing it into my hands. 

I unscrewed the cap and took a gulp, coughing at the bitter sting at the back of my throat, screwing up my face. 

"Everybody, give her some space, come on," Dutch called out. He was there? I didn't see him, was surprised to hear him. Most people shuffled out of the room, and I glanced at my surroundings. The floor was blackened, the walls too, all in a wide radius of where the lantern had been. At least they'd managed to put it out before it consumed the whole building with everyone in it.

Miss Grimshaw kneeled at my feet alongside Tilly and I finally looked at the damage. My skirt was almost completely eaten away up the left side, the edges black and crisp, my underskirt the same. My drawers were ravaged too, I could only pray there was enough clothing left to cover me up. My leg was certainly burnt, but Tilly was right, the worst of it was on my lower calf where the skin blistered and wept, the area surrounding it – stretching right up above my knee – hurt but bared few visible signs of injury. I was extremely lucky, all things considered.

"I'd better give it a good rinse, make sure you ain't got none of what's left of your skirt stuck to it," Susan said, Mary-Beth came in with a second bucket of fresh water and more was splashed over my burn. I hissed and stiffened up. 

Arthur's forehead pressed against my shoulder, one hand still gripping mine, the other brushing up and down my arm. He released a very shaky, stuttered breath. I wondered if he was crying. 

"My angel, I'm gonna get you out of here. I don't ever want you getting hurt like this again, I gotta find a way for you and me to get– to go someplace else–" he began muttering, perhaps louder than he intended, my eyes drifted to where Dutch was standing in the doorway, eyes intent on my leg, no doubt hearing every word. 

"Arthur will you show- show me that drawin' you did that day out in Scarlett Meadows, you remember that? You stopped and drew the scenery and it was when I found out you could draw," I cut him off, not allowing him to dig any deeper. I didn't know what Dutch would do with the information Arthur was spewing out.

Arthur grunted in confusion, lifting his head and meeting my eyes. "You wanna see that right now?"

"It hurts, lookin' at it might take my mind off it," I whispered. 

He didn't think twice. He retrieved his journal from his satchel and began flicking through, searching for the page in question. I gritted my teeth as Susan washed my leg, she was ever so gentle but my skin was so angry and sensitive that even the mildest touch sent acid up my leg. 

Arthur handed the book to me, showing his beautifully rendered impression of rolling hills and wispy clouds and dancing trees. "You can look at whatever you want, princess, read what I wrote, I don't mind. If it'll help the hurtin'," he whispered, turning my hand over and drawing patterns on my palm with his fingers. 

I gazed down at the drawing, remembering the moment I'd watched him do it. It was one of the moments that I realised how I was beginning to feel for him, it was a very peaceful moment. One so far removed from our lives now; the smell of charring heavy in the air, rain hitting the roof, the bodies strewn about outside. I could hear the others moving the bodies around, clearing them out of sight, trying to grasp a bit of normality after yet another ambush. 

A quiet sob escaped me, I hadn't been prepared for it and I was unable to stifle it. Arthur made a pained sound, tilting his head and kissing the spot just below my eye, where a tear had landed. Then, with his head leaning against mine, his fingers plucked at the pages, flicking through page after page of pretty cursive handwriting and impressive drawings. I saw flowers and animals and landscapes, then myself. Standing by Rayna, brushing through her mane, I was there on the page rendered so true and real, though prettier than I saw myself. Arthur lingered on that page, sliding his finger down along the edge and then across to underline the words written below the drawing; _my sweet angel._

I turned and wrapped my arm around his neck, joining our lips, kissing him sweetly and tenderly, not caring that people were seeing. They were far too concerned with tending to my burns, anyway. The kiss was distracting me from the pain, far more pleasant pain relief than the whiskey that burned my throat and would make me nauseous. Arthur and I's lips parted minutely.

"I love you," we mouthed to each other in sync, and then we laughed breathily.

"Okay, you pair, I think it's clean. I'm gonna go ahead and wrap it, it's gonna hurt like the devil," Miss Grimshaw called between us. I grimaced and brought the bottle of whiskey to my lips again. I didn't like drinking whiskey like this, but I knew it would help numb the pain. I chugged a fair bit of the stuff, coughing as it felt like it clung to my throat, searing and choking me. 

Arthur cupped my face with both hands and pressed our foreheads together. "Look at me, princess," he said, "you and me are gonna find a way through this, get away from all these bastards on our tails. You've been hurt too many times because of me–"

"Stop blaming your–ah!" I jolted when Miss Grimshaw began dressing the worst of my burn, "yourself," I finished, panting. 

"But it is my fault. If I'd just got you out of here sooner, like we discussed–"

"Arthur!" I gasped, I didn't know if it was from the pain or from shock at him speaking so freely with everyone – Miss Grimshaw, Tilly, Mary-Beth, _Dutch_ – mere feet away. 

"I want you to go someplace safe. Somewhere in the city maybe. I'll pay to put a roof over your head, your leg is gonna take some healing and I–"

"Fuck!" I hissed, my leg jerking of its own accord when a particularly tender spot was touched with the bandage, my movement only made it worse and I growled out through clenched teeth. 

"You gotta stop movin'! Tilly would you please hold her leg still?" Susan snapped, then I felt two hands on my boot, pulling my leg taught, holding it firm. 

"Maybe Arthur is right. Maybe you should stay away for a little while, just while that leg heals," Dutch piped up, his stony expression somewhat unnerving. 

My wide eyes flickered between Arthur and Dutch. Arthur seemed torn. Like he knew he probably shouldn't have said anything in front of him, but pleased to have someone backing him up. The boss, no less.

"Arthur, I don't wanna go nowhere," I said under my breath, gritting my teeth as the bandage wrapped around and around, seemingly never ending, burning and burning and _burning_ –

"Of course you don't, my dear, but don't you think it'll be for the best? You don't wanna be stuck out in the swamps with that wound, do you? It's hot and filthy out here, who knows what you could catch," Dutch droned, I bit down hard on my lip as Susan tied off the bandage, tugging, pulling, _stinging_ – "ain't no place to live, let alone die."

_"Ugh, shut up!"_ I growled unthinkingly. "It's as good a place to live and die as any, not like my folks had much of a damn choice!"

Dutch didn't flinch, but everyone else peered up at me. It was quiet for a few moments, quiet and still.

Susan and Tilly let go of my leg carefully. "There you go, sweetness. All bandaged up. We'll keep on checking on it, make sure it's healin' okay," Susan said, breaking the silence. She and Tilly gave me some space, gathering up the materials they'd used to deal with my wound. I thanked them quietly. Dutch kept his eyes on me the entire time, brows in a hard line above his beady eyes, looking like he was staring through me, _into_ me. It made me feel sick. 

"I don't feel too good, I wanna go lie down somewhere," I murmured, looking away from Dutch, bringing my hands to the floor and testing how probable it was that I was going to walk on my leg any time soon. Bending it didn't feel like a good idea, and Arthur stopped me. 

"Let me carry you," he said quietly, then rose to his feet. "I'll take you across the way, get you down on that bed for a while, okay?"

"Mhm," I nodded. He gathered the whiskey and his journal back up in his satchel then bent down to me, and I wrapped my arms around his neck as he lifted me with an arm behind my back and one under my knees. I winced, my tender flesh protested at the touch, but I knew that it would be over soon and he wasn't anywhere near the worst of my burns.

"You okay? I got you," he murmured to me under his breath, and I nodded. He carried me past Dutch, through the front door and into the rain. I tilted my head back towards the sky and let the droplets hit my face, envisioning the water cleaning away the smoke and soot that I imagined was coating my skin. It was cooling. 

I closed my eyes as I swayed with Arthur's footsteps, and he was soon stepping onto the wooden deck of the other building, and we were sheltered from the elements once again. 

"Mind the hole," I mumbled when I felt like he was walking a little too close to the middle of the room for comfort. I must've been right, because his course diverted and he made a little sound.

We entered the bedroom and Arthur lowered me down carefully, keeping his eye on my leg as he gently lowered it to the mattress, easing me onto my back. He pressed his lips to my forehead once I was settled, kissing away the crease that worried its way between my brows. The clink of glass could be heard and then he put the bottle of whiskey down on the bedside table. 

"Drink as much as you need," he told me, and I nodded. "How is it?"

"It hurts," I simply said, as if it wasn't obvious. He sighed, kneeled down on the floor beside the bed and rested his head on my chest, turning onto his ear for a few moments. My jaw was clenched tight at the persistent pain in my leg, it felt ice cold again. My brain couldn't decide what was happening to me, just that it hurt. 

"I should've put the lantern out before I went outside. Of course it was gonna get hit," he whispered. 

"You ain't a prophet. You weren't to know. Please, Arthur, I don't need to listen to you blaming yourself for a bit of shitty luck. It could've been any of us, Charles and Tilly were right near that lantern as well. Strauss, too. Karen. We're lucky it was just me," I told him. 

"I really meant what I said in there. I want us to leave together–"

"Arthur, stop. I don't mean to be rude, and I ain't saying you're a liar, but we both know that ain't gonna happen. Otherwise you'd be loading up a wagon right now with all our stuff."

He was silent for a while. He'd turned his head, his face pressed into my chest, hiding it from me.

"It's true that I _want_ to… but you're right. I can't pretend," he finally said. "I ain't got enough money and to be honest, I don't know what I would do."

"You don't?" I whispered. 

"I ain't never lived without the gang before. Well, not since I was a kid. I know if we leave, it'll all be down to me to keep you safe. When I'm out of camp now, I know you've got good folk around you, you'll be safe, but if it's just me and you…"

"You ain't gotta worry about that," I told him and he lifted his head to look at me.

"I know I shouldn't. You looked after yourself long enough, I just…" he sighed, shook his head. "Leaving ain't gonna be easy. For a lot of reasons. I wish we could do it right now, but what just happened? The whole place got shot up! People want us dead and I ain't ready to go it alone when it's your life on the line alongside mine."

"I understand. Things are far too hot right now," I shook my head too, well aware of the irony in my words given the circumstances. "Why do you think I'm not about to swan off someplace else, leaving all of you?"

"That's different. I'm what's putting you in danger, this gang. If you were to stay away, even just temporarily, you'll be out of the cross hairs. They ain't gonna go looking for you, they don't know nothing about you," he tried to persuade me, and I simply closed my eyes and sighed.

"How can you expect me to be okay with leaving you while I am terrified every day that something is going to happen to you? If the shoe was on the other foot, could you leave me?"

Arthur was silent at that. I knew he wasn't about to argue with me, perhaps he was beginning to understand my issue with the idea. He let the topic float away, his eyes fixed on something at my collar bone. I realised it must be the locket, he'd never seen it before, I was about to open my mouth to tell him about it when he spoke again. 

"You mentioned your folks in there," he said. I frowned a little, confused.

"Did I?" 

He nodded. "When you told Dutch to shut up," he clarified, his mouth twitching a little at that. 

"Oh," I breathed, still frowning. 

"You don't mention 'em much. You okay?"

"Yeah. Just being here," I shook my head, "saw their graves again. They're both buried out here. Hard not to think of them more."

"Course," he nodded, slotting his fingers between mine where they laid against my stomach. 

I sighed heavily, pressing my head back into the pillow behind me and growling under my breath.

"When'll it stop feeling like it's on fire?" I exclaimed in frustration, the grating pain starting to get on my nerves. 

"Drink more of this," he passed me the whiskey and I turned my nose up as I took another swig. "You don't like whiskey?"

"Not when I have to guzzle it right from sober," I explained through a clenched jaw.

"Drink it up anyway, it'll make you sleepy. Maybe when you wake up it won't hurt so bad," he suggested, bringing his free hand to my head, stroking it in a way that relaxed me. He was right, I was beginning to feel tired from the warmth in my belly and the motion of his hand.

"This is like a reverse of when you was laid up with your shoulder," I murmured. Arthur made a humming sound.

"Except you ain't said nothing embarrassing yet."

"Apparently I told Dutch to shut up," I chuckled. He smiled in amusement. 

"Someone had to do it at some point. It had the desired effect, face was a picture though," he said quietly. 

"I'll await my punishment."

"If he did anything he'd be a fool. The pain you was in, he's lucky that's all you said."

"I guess," I huffed a laugh, then let my eyes close.

"You look like you're dozin', I'll leave you be," he said after a moment, taking the bottle from me before I spilled it. 

"No, I'm dozin' cause of what you're doing with that hand. Please don't stop," I protested, much to his amusement. 

"Okay princess, I'll stay here until you're asleep. But then I ought to be speaking to Dutch and whatnot, figure out what's next."

"Mm he'll want to share his new grand plan. Next stop, Tahiti," I mumbled, hearing Arthur's quiet wheeze-laugh of a response.

"You won't ever catch me on a damn boat again, I'll tell you that for nothin'," he said with certainty. "From that poker game in Saint Denis, to getting washed up in Guarma... every time I set foot on a boat, at best I get wet and at worst I almost die. And that ain't even mentioning the fiasco that Blackwater ferry job caused."

"Yeah, it's best we stick to dry land, then."

"Abso-damn-lutely."


	50. Beaver Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On the move once again. Dude… 50 chapters!! 😮 Thanks to everyone who’s stuck with me!
> 
> Also, for anyone who doesn't have tumblr/for whatever reason hasn't seen this, check out the incredible gifset that the wonderful and talented anonymous_huxely made for this story!! I honestly cried when I saw this, it means so much to me ❤ thank you so much! Everyone should see it!!!  
> https://muse-of-nightmares.tumblr.com/post/190634490481/arthur-i-breathed-almost-silently-tilting-my

Much to my disdain, I was bedridden. The burns on my leg were placed as such that bending my leg and doing any more than hobbling outside to pee (a nightmare task) was out of the question. They were also extremely painful, but I tried not to go on about it, I did my best to ignore it and pretend it wasn't the case. Susan was on at me constantly to rest it, telling me I would only make the healing process worse if I kept bursting blisters and tearing fragile skin as it tried to heal back. She was right, obviously, but I hated not doing anything. 

There were only so many chores I could do from the bed, mostly sewing, and after two days of that, nobody had anything that needed repairing. I'd started taking commissions of sorts; in other words, I made people bring me things to draw for them. They'd get a drawing, and I'd get half an hour or so of entertainment, it was a pretty good deal. I drew Javier's hat, Strauss' spare spectacles, Arthur's boots, a ladle that Pearson gave to me and then later apparently went mad trying to find, and a flower that Tilly picked. 

Jack was my most eager customer, though. He kept on bringing me things, cool looking rocks, a 'snake' he'd made out of compacted mud on a plate (I had to ask him what I was looking at, momentarily concerned he'd brought me a gift from Cain), and a small wooden horse that apparently Sean had carved for him once upon a time. I drew them all, even the more questionable items, because he smiled like a little angel every time I handed him a finished drawing. It was definitely a welcome distraction from the discomfort I was near-constantly in.

I was finishing up a drawing of a character from one of his books when Abigail came in. 

"I thought I'd find him in here," she smiled when she entered, "he ain't bothering you, is he?" 

"Of course not! I love having him around," I grinned, "he's a good boy, ain't you?" 

Jack gave me a toothy smile and nodded. 

"As long as he's behaving himself," Abigail chuckled, then took a seat on the edge of the bed by my feet. "But I, uh, I'd like a word, if that's okay?"

"With me?" My brows raised a little, and she nodded. "Sure, I ain't going anywhere soon," I snorted.

"Alright Jack, why don't you go see if Susan can find you a little job to help her with, hm?"

"I don't like doing jobs," he sulked, fiddling with the corner of the page of the sketchbook on my lap. 

"Nobody does, but I need you to keep on being a good boy, come on," she breathed, putting her hand on the top of his head and directing him towards the door. "You can come back later, okay?" 

"Okay," he grumbled, though did as he was told. 

"I love you," Abigail called after him with a certain look in her eye. She gnawed on her bottom lip as she watched him leave.

"Everything okay?" I asked. It took her a moment to look at me again. 

"Sure. Arthur and Sadie are looking into how they can break John out today."

My heart thudded. "They are?"

"He never told you?"

"He said he had things to do today, didn't go into much detail. What're they doing?" I asked, mildly concerned. 

"I ain't sure. They promised me they'd get him back, Sadie said she had an idea to check things out over at Sisika. They ain't breaking him out just yet, but they're doing a hell of a lot more than Dutch is," she released a sigh and shook her head. 

"John will be back soon. You ain't gotta worry with Sadie and Arthur working on it," I reassured her. 

"I know, just feels like so long since..." she trailed off a little glumly, her head bowed and her eyes landed on my bandaged leg. "I'm sorry, how're you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Susan changed the dressing this morning and so far so good. Now that it's had a little time to calm down it don't look too bad," I explained and she nodded slowly. "Still hurts, but not like the first night."

"That was real scary," she closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them to look at me with a crinkled brow. "We have to move soon. Everyone's started packing up, we just gotta sort a new camp. That's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Yeah?"

"Are you coming with us? I heard Dutch saying something about sending you off to someplace else while your leg heals."

"He was talking out'a where the sun don't shine. It was discussed, but I ain't leaving unless Arthur's coming with me. I don't think Dutch'd be too happy about that, though."

"Well I thought you should know Micah's been whispering in his ear," she muttered rolling his eyes, "he don't like to see weakness in the gang. Said we don't need to be carrying around another invalid." 

"Invalid? Soon as I'm out of this bed I'll be back to normal, I don't wanna be lying around on my ass all day!" 

"I told him where he can shove his opinion, and Arthur would never let the gang cut you loose. And like you said, Dutch don't wanna lose Arthur. You ain't going anywhere. Unless– what was Arthur going on about, you and him getting away together?" She cocked a brow a little.

"When?" I frowned.

"When you got burned, he was saying all these things–"

"You heard that? Right. I know he was," I cut her off, turning my eyes to the ceiling, I hadn't even realised that Abigail was around then, "he was just worried and stressed, we ain't leaving any time soon." 

"You don't sound very happy about that."

"Of course I ain't. I wanted to be long gone before Arthur even ended up in Guarma! But that don't mean I'm gonna make him leave. I know the timing ain't right." 

"But you do want to leave with him?"

"Yes," I breathed, closing my eyes. "Before I lose him." 

"You never mentioned this before," she noted. 

"It hurt to talk about, while he was gone," I admitted. 

"Well, I bet you're relieved, at least. Now you've got your boy back in your sight?" She mused. I nodded firmly.

"Real relieved. I'm so thankful… he was so lucky, _I_ was lucky. I really was starting to lose it for a while."

"Well, maybe now the timing ain't right for you pair to go off and start a life together, but it will be one day. For now, I get it. Lord knows I don't wanna be here forever. Maybe when John gets out we can… I don't know. I just want us three to be a family."

"You will be, Abigail," I reached over and patted her knee. 

"If Arthur knows what's good for him," she looked up suddenly, "he'll leave all this behind too. There's been too many close calls and Dutch has been... well, he don't seem to care too much about John being behind bars, or marching towards the gallows. Once upon a time he'd be racing to do something about it."

"You think he's changed?"

"I don't know," she frowned deeply, "I love Dutch, I do, but I'm just frustrated. And a little scared, too. Hosea used to always be at his side and I trusted him to steer his judgement just enough to– sometimes Dutch's ideas are a little theatrical. I don't doubt they'd probably work but Hosea kept Dutch's feet on the ground. It was better for us all that way. I don't know how to say it, I guess."

"He provided wisdom and rationale while Dutch provided passion and charisma," I murmured, "that was always the impression I got."

"Yeah, I guess that's it," she sighed heavily. "Maybe if Hosea was still here, he'd be convincing Dutch to help with getting John back."

"I'm really sorry, Abigail. You must miss him."

"I don't like admitting it, but I do. Jack needs his father and I need–" she stopped, then realised something. "Oh, did you mean Hosea?"

"I did. But you can say whatever you need to."

"I'm just… I'm ready to have him back now. I don't like all this," she sighed, the corners of her mouth turning down and twitching. 

"No, I know. Ain't gonna be for long, I'm sure," I told her softly. 

"Hey, if you're lookin' for something else to draw in that book of yours, draw John's dumb face for me, won't you?" She smiled a little and I chuckled. 

"Sure, I'll try," I beamed at her. 

-

Arthur had come back from scoping out Sisika, full of reassurance for Abigail that they'd seen John and he was alive and well, working the fields. He hadn't mentioned it to Dutch, he told me, there was a strange air about him when he spoke about what he and Sadie had done. He never spoke at his regular volume, looked edgy, like a child plotting something he knew he shouldn't be doing. I couldn't quite believe that Dutch would have something negative to say about them going off to save one of our own. But then again, his behaviour had been particularly odd lately. 

Arthur had collapsed into sleep not long after telling me tales of hot air balloons and O'Driscolls, stories that sounded like they should be written in a story book and not coming from the experience of the man I loved. It terrified me. He'd scoped out the prison in a _damn hot air balloon_. He'd _flown_. I wanted to cry, even if Arthur acted like it was all in a day's work, and even if he spent more time describing the view of the world from miles up in the air, than he did the feeling of coming crashing back down. This was going to get him killed, I'd said, _why aren't you telling Dutch and putting a team together?_ But he was sleeping. His head nestled into my chest and his body half laying on mine, on my good side, careful not to disturb my injured leg. I let him get his rest. 

It wasn't long before we were on the move again. It was the next afternoon that Arthur left with Charles to sort out our new home. Murfree Brood territory, up in Roanoke, apparently. I remembered the gang's hesitance to head up there after the bank job, it turned out we just needed to work up our nerve by dealing with the Night Folk in the bayou before moving onto the even sicker, even more brutal folk up on the Ridge. We'd only had one minor incident in the bayou. Lenny had encountered a couple of Night Folk skulking around a little way away from Lakay, right on the edge of our camp. They hadn't harmed him, hadn't even tried to. It seemed as though they were just checking the place out, but Lenny threatened them, we upped security, and we didn't see them again.

Miss Grimshaw came into the room I'd resided in since the night of the shoot out, flanked by Micah and Bill.

"How's that leg feelin'?" She asked as the men hung back. Bill stood awkwardly in the doorway while Micah strolled in, leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms, watching me from across the room. I was a little surprised to suddenly have them all there. 

"It's fine, I've been keeping still just like you told me to," I told her, glancing at the men before looking back at Susan. 

"Well, now I have to retract that order, we're moving. I roped these strapping fellers in to help you out onto the wagon we've got waiting for you outside," she said, glancing over her shoulder at them briefly, "you reckon you can move?"

"I don't have much of a choice," I laughed a little anxiously, "but I'll be glad to see something other than this room." 

"Alright then, you ready to move now? We don't got much time," Susan was a little short with me and sounded stressed. I didn't blame her. Moving was never a fun task. I nodded, and she nodded back, turning to leave briskly.

"Very well, be careful with her, boys. Make sure she doesn't bend that leg too much."

Micah and Bill approached me and I sat up, moving to scoot to the edge of the bed while keeping my bad leg outstretched. Micah let out an audible sigh and I kept my eyes firmly on the floor as they surrounded me, reaching for me a number of times without actually lifting me, trying to figure out how to approach it. 

"What if I lift her legs and you carry her by her arms?" Bill suggested. 

"Why don't we roll her up in a carpet while we're at it? She ain't a corpse just yet, Williamson," Micah hissed. 

"Well, I don't know! I never volunteered for this."

"Neither did I!"

"I'd walk if I could! I don't wanna be a burden, you know," I snapped at them.

"How do you want it, ma'am? Want me to carry you bridal style while Bill tosses rose petals?" Micah suggested, bending his knees to come down to my level condescendingly.

"Just lower me onto my stomach and I'll drag myself if it's too much of a hassle just to put my arms over your shoulders and walk me out there," I deadpanned. 

There was a pause, then Bill moved forward, taking my arm and hooking it around his shoulders. We both looked at Micah expectantly, and after making us wait for a few seconds, he did the same. They lifted me up and carried me out of the building, the camp was filled with people bustling about loading our things up onto the wagons, one wagon was waiting for me with a blanket draped on the bottom, a nice little spot to sit. I pressed my lips together as the blood rushed down my legs, the first time I'd stood upright since it happened, the area feeling full and tense and sore. I kept my foot lifted, trying my hardest not to move my leg too much and pull on the delicate, healing wounds.

We reached the wagon and Bill and Micah turned me, easing me up onto the back of it, sitting me down on the edge. I gasped as I bent my leg too far, and Bill caught it in his hands, lifting it up for me as I shuffled back with my arms and my good leg. By the time I was settled I was breathless, despite barely moving with my own strength.

"Thank you," I breathed, and Bill waved a hand dismissively.

"You alright?" He asked in that gruff voice of his.

"Yeah, I'm okay," I nodded. 

"You just take it easy there, don't want you straining yourself," Micah said, though the sneer with which he spoke told me he wasn't being kind. I hummed my acknowledgement but otherwise didn't respond. The two men turned and left me there, and I heard Micah muttering something about dumping me in a hotel somewhere instead of carting me around, to which Bill grumbled at him to give it a rest. 

It did make me wonder how the gang would behave if Micah found himself in a position of needing to be cared for. If he was put to bed rest for a week or two, and we had to wait on him until he was better. Would anyone complain as much as him about the weak links in the gang? I'd heard the way Micah spoke about the likes of Reverend Swanson or Uncle, and even the women, about how they didn't contribute enough and were dead weights. He didn't seem to hold much compassion, if any. But who would complain if it was him in need? Probably no one. Everyone else just got on with things, did what needed doing, helped who needed helping. I wondered how Micah would feel in that situation. Guilty? Unlikely. 

With a sigh I leaned my head back against the edge of the wagon and closed my eyes, waiting for everyone to finish packing away our things, feeling useless the entire time. I didn't enjoy being immobile. Sure, I could probably force myself to stand and do things, but I knew that it would hurt and Susan would be on my case quicker than vultures on a corpse.

It was times like these that I realised how much I needed work to ground me. How much I relied on it to give my life structure and purpose, to give me focus. Without it, or with the limited amount I was doing, the days dragged on and gave me too much time alone with my thoughts. And these days my thoughts weren't always friendly, especially when Arthur wasn't with me. When he was out working I had a constant seed of anxiety in the back of my mind, growing and sprouting into every corner of myself, building and building until he walked back into view, and the worry subsided. I'd felt it when he was out scoping Sisika. I felt it when he was clearing the new camp with Charles… worse, in fact.

My stomach churned steadily, heart thumping, just hanging around and waiting was making me feel nervous. I didn't really know what I was nervous for, I guess it was just the impatience to get on the road again, because the sooner we were on our way, the sooner I'd be with Arthur and I could see he was okay. 

-

The journey to Beaver Hollow, our new camp, was bumpy and warm and humid… and awful. My backside was numb from the hard wood of the wagon, every rut in the road jostled my leg; at first it was okay, but the longer it went on the more it began to hurt and soon the pain was intense and my discomfort manifested itself in my stomach as the worst nausea I'd felt in a long time. I laid back against the side of the wagon with my head tilted up to the sky, breathing slowly and deeply, trying so hard not to let my sickness get the better of me. 

"You okay there sweetheart? You're lookin' a little rough," Abigail, who was sitting up on the seat of the wagon above me, called down over her shoulder. I shook my head. "Is it your leg? How is it, Miss Grimshaw's been checking it, ain't she?"

"Don't make me talk, I'll be sick," I said as gingerly as I could. I heard some murmuring from above, then the wagon shook with a thump as someone jumped down from above. I opened my eyes to see Lenny rummaging in the storage next to me, the clatter of metal meeting my ears. Then I was presented with a bowl. One we prepared food in! I wrinkled my nose and kept all my focus on not puking into it.

"You want me to sit with you?" He asked me, and I gave him a look that I hoped he would read as me leaving the option up to him. He didn't have to sit with someone on the verge of purging their stomach contents, but I wouldn't mind the distraction some company would provide.

Lenny sat down next to me, leaning against the opposite side of the wagon so we faced each other. 

"We're gonna be there soon, I promise, hang tight," he said to me, crossing his arms over his chest and watching me swallow thickly, the flood of excess saliva in my mouth. "You ever been up near Beaver Hollow?" He asked me.

I nodded minutely. 

"Sorry, right, I won't make you talk," he gave a small chuckle. "I heard some bad things about this place. But I think we'll be fine. A bunch like us? No one'll come poking around." 

I swallowed again, took a shaky, slow breath. 

"Hey, did Arthur ever tell you about the time he and I went drinking together?" He began, a toothy smile appearing on his face. I shook my head. "Let me tell you. Maybe it'll make you feel better," he said.

Lenny chuckled quietly, then glanced out the back of the wagon at the one following us, with Micah and Dutch on it. 

"Was when Micah went and got himself locked up in Strawberry. Arthur took me into Valentine for a few drinks, just to ease up a little, you know? All the worst nights start out with a quiet drink," he laughed, shaking his head. "Well, I don't remember a whole lot, we just kept on doing shots. One after the other. God knows how much we drank…"

I quirked a brow at him, trying to imagine him and Arthur drinking themselves half to death. I just couldn't picture it, especially not Lenny. He seemed like such a good kid! Perhaps Arthur had just been a bad influence… 

"I remember doin' the can-can in the middle of the saloon. I remember slapping Arthur in the face over and over, and that's about it… we woke up in a jail cell! I don't really know what we did to get there," he snorted. "Probably just being a pair of complete morons."

"How'd you get out?" I asked.

"They just let us go, I guess the sheriff saw the funny side," he grinned. "I ain't ever thrown up quite as much as I did in the aftermath of that, though– sorry, maybe I won't mention that."

I laughed just a little, careful not to jostle my stomach too much.

"We ain't been out drinking since, feel like I'm still getting over it," he snorted. I smiled, it was easier not to lose my breakfast while he was talking to me. 

"Tell me another story," I pleaded.

"Hmm, let me think for a second," he murmured. "I know. This was when we was out west, before Blackwater–"

Lenny talked the whole way, distracting me from my sickness. He told me stories about the gang from before I joined, and before everything started going so spectacularly wrong. It was nice, even if it did make me sad to think of all those the gang had lost since then, some I knew, others I didn't. He seemed particularly distant when he mentioned a girl called Jenny, who'd passed during the ferry job. I still didn't quite know what went on that day, but it seemed to be one major hit in a series of many the gang had taken in recent times. 

-

Charles met up with us on the way, leading us the rest of the way to Beaver Hollow. The caravan rolled into the new area, a clearing between the trees and the large cave that had apparently been used by the Murfree Brood before us. Arthur and Charles had cleared it for us, and it terrified me to think that Arthur had been up against that sick, deranged group of bastards. They seemed to have managed it though, and the place was cleared and ready for us to set up. Arthur was nowhere to be seen, however, but Charles approached me before I could get myself too twisted in a knot with concern. 

"There was a girl locked up in the cave. Arthur's taking her back home, he'll be back later," he told me, offering his arm out, hinting for me to scoot forwards towards the open edge of the wagon. I gingerly did just that, keeping my leg straight. 

"A girl? Is she okay?" I queried, and Charles frowned a little as he took my hand, guided it around his shoulders and lifted me onto my good foot. 

"Physically, I think so. She was real shook up, though. That place was a mess down there, in the cave," he told me quietly, depositing me down on a chair he'd retrieved for me. I thanked him for his assistance as he let me go. "How're you feeling?"

"Sick," I said truthfully. "Was all I could do not to hurl on the way up here," I chuckled weakly. His frown deepened. 

"Have your wounds been checked recently?" He asked me, looking to me for permission before pressing the back of his hand to my forehead.

"This morning," I nodded, "there's no sign of infection. I think it was just the journey, it hurt from all of the bumps in the road."

"Okay. I'll see if I can find something to help you once we're all set up," he patted me on the shoulder. 

"Thanks, Charles," I smiled. He went off to help everyone unload the wagons. 

I had to sit and watch everyone buzzing around setting up tents, making the place into something that resembled a home. As much as I wished to be able to help, I was glad that everyone was too busy to pay attention to me when I – as quietly as I could – finally lost my battle with nausea on the ground beside my chair on the outskirts of the camp. I almost immediately felt better, though it wasn't fun having to sit next to it until someone could come and help me move away. At least I didn't do it in the wagon, I thought.


	51. Visiting Hours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur expresses his concern over reader’s sickness (yes I wrote this purely to address an idea that I think I accidentally put in people’s heads last chapter lol), Dutch receives a letter, and Arthur and Sadie go to break John out of prison.

Arthur made it back as everyone was adding the final touches to camp. As soon as he arrived, he carried me over to his tent, laying me down on his bed, insisting that I take it while my leg healed. I couldn't bring myself to decline, laying down on the ground for as long as it would take for my leg to be functional again was about the last thing I wanted to do. Miss Grimshaw told me that it wouldn't be too long before I should start getting up and moving around a little, just to do chores. It would help make sure I had plenty of mobility in my leg once the skin healed, and I certainly wasn't about to argue with that. I was ready to stretch my legs, and it'd only been a few days. 

When I told him I'd been sick, Arthur was concerned. Like Charles, he immediately began checking for signs of an infection, only being slightly relieved when I reassured him that that probably wasn't the cause. He stared at me for a moment, his mouth opening and closing a number of times as he crouched down by the side of the bed, leaning close to me. 

"I feel much better now, it's okay. I just got a little travel sick," I shrugged. He gnawed on his bottom lip. "What's wrong?" I frowned, rolling onto my side to face him properly.

"Are you sure it's travel sickness? You've never been ill when we've moved before," he pointed out. I shrugged my shoulders.

"Sure, but I've never been in pain when travelling before. What else would it be?" I asked.

"I'm just– what about your– could you be–" he stammered, and I stared blankly at him, waiting for him to articulate. "Have you been… bleedin'... normally?" He asked in a very hushed tone, his eyes dropping away from my face with a little discomfort. 

It took me a second to understand what he was asking, immediately thinking about the wound on my leg, which hadn't really bled much at all… It soon clicked, though. 

"Oh, I... I don't think it could be _that_ ," I murmured. 

"I just know sickness can sometimes be a sign and we've… are you sure?" He asked. 

"I'm sure," I nodded.

"I don't mean to tell you about your own body, I'm just– when was the last time?" He scratched at his scalp, clearly feeling perturbed by the topic. 

"Currently," I finally told him with a sigh, trying not to feel too embarrassed by it. "It began this morning. Hell, that might've even had something to do with my sickness, sometimes I feel a little off."

"Oh. I see, that's… that's that then," he gave a breathy laugh, perhaps what you'd call relieved. "Do you need anything?"

I shook my head, "I'm fine, thank you. And don't worry about that, I think I'd notice if something was amiss."

"No, of course. I'm being silly," he shook his head. 

"We've been careful, as well," I said, my tone light. He met my eyes again.

"Careful or not, it could still happen, princess," he whispered, reaching out and brushing his palm over my hair. I frowned a little, wondering if he was about to tell me we couldn't be with each other like that anymore. "Don't worry. I'll always look after you, whatever happens. I just want you to be okay, you'll tell me if anything like that happens, won't you?"

"Of course I would," I whispered. He pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

"If you wanna stop all'a that till we're free of this place, we will," he said, and I shook my head before he'd even finished the sentence. He chuckled at that.

"I couldn't, I love you. I want all that, it means so much–" I began, my voice rising high enough for him to gently shush me with an amused smile on his face. 

"Well, I'm glad I ain't the only one," he breathed, leaning in and kissing my temple, my cheek, my neck–

"You want me to draw the curtains?" A very loud, very drunk Karen said as she staggered by. She was clearly making the most of the fresh stock of alcohol Pearson had been out and fetched. Arthur breathed deep and slow as he pulled back, sitting down on his backside and leaning against the crate next to the bed with a content little smile.

"Dutch! There's a letter here– Molly. There's a letter from Miss O'Shea, I thought you should read it," Uncle was calling as he came shuffling into camp. He waved the thing in the air as Dutch got up from his reading spot to meet him half-way. I watched him as he did, his face a hard, creased frown, his moustache almost covering the narrow line of his mouth. 

Everyone seemed to stop and stare, and Dutch didn't notice, or care. He took the letter, peeled the paper open and scanned the page. Everything was far too quiet as his eyes jerked back and forth over the words, his expression unchanging. His hand lifted to idly rub at his moustache. I felt Arthur glance at me only for a moment, before returning to join everyone else in waiting for Dutch's reaction. 

It was a long letter. Either that or he was reading it over and over. My curious side reared up and I was desperate to know what she'd written. 

Eventually, Dutch reanimated, lowering the letter, lifting his eyes to look at everyone. He realised, then, that all of the attention was on him, and he cleared his throat, lifting his chin minutely. "Miss O'Shea… has returned to Ireland," he said slowly, emotionlessly, matter-of-factly.

So, she _had_ gone home. In the end, she'd made her choice. A smile appeared on my lips before I realised, even as Dutch wordlessly turned and strolled back over to his tent, disappearing inside. 

A beat passed, and then everyone began to murmur.

"Shit," Arthur breathed, turning to me. "When did that happen? I hadn't even– it's been such a whirlwind of a few days…" he trailed off. 

"She left while you were away. I thought she might've gone home," I admitted. "She… she and I spoke a little."

"You did?" He seemed surprised by this. 

"She weren't happy. You know that," I said, and Arthur nodded slowly. "I told her she's gotta do what's right for her. And she did," I said with certainty, perhaps a little coldness. 

"Maybe I should go speak to Dutch," he said under his breath, thoughtfully. I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him that Dutch brought it on himself by brushing her off constantly, so he should leave him to wallow. But I softened my words at the last moment. 

"His ego'll be bruised. He probably needs a minute."

"Mm, you're prob'ly right," he mumbled, resting back against the crate. "Still, can't believe she actually went. She was a fool for that man."

"Yeah, but she weren't a fool, full stop. She knows when she ain't appreciated. Much as she didn't wanna accept it in the beginning," I sighed. Arthur hummed quietly in agreement. 

"At least she don't have to deal with any of this anymore," he said. I tilted my head to look at him, then dropped my open hand against the bed, clapping my fingers against my palm until he slotted his own hand there. 

"Hopefully we won't, soon," I whispered. He watched me for a while, his expression unchanging. Then he moved forward, turning my hand and pressing a row of kisses across my knuckles. 

"I love you," he told me softly, then lowered his voice further, "it's about time for me to go. Meetin' Sadie down by the Lannahechee River, we're gonna get John–"

My eyes widened. "Today?" I gasped. 

"Shh, shh, you can't tell no one. Dutch don't know we're going," he moved onto his knees again, hunching over me as if to conceal the noises I made.

"Who's going?"

"Jus' me and Sadie."

"Just two of you?" I squeaked, panic rushed through me and unsettled my stomach again.

"Trust me, it'll be better with just two," he whispered reassuringly, stroking my hair. "Relax, baby, we got it. We're gonna bring John back to his family."

"Oh, please be careful. Make sure you bring yourself back, too," I pleaded, squeezing his hand tight. 

"I promise," he said. I shifted up, sitting upright, and wrapped my arms around him. I squeezed him so tight, focusing on the warm press of his chest against mine, the push as it expanded with his breaths. I never wanted him to leave my sight, I never wanted to feel like I did back when he was in Guarma, unsure if he would ever return to my embrace.

"Please," I whispered, feeling my throat ache with the urge to sob.

"Princess," Arthur cooed, concerned, "it's okay. Come on, you know I'll always do everything I possibly can to come back to you."

"I'm just scared. I'm scared for you! You're going into a–" I caught myself and lowered my voice significantly– "a heavily guarded penitentiary. They're gonna wanna keep you there!"

"We don't plan on makin' a scene. We're gonna grab him while he's out in the fields, there'll be a couple'a guards at most. Trust me, sweetheart."

"I _do_ trust you," I sniffled, pressing my face into his shoulder where his shirt absorbed the few tears that managed to escape me. "It's the people who point their guns at you that I don't."

"I'll be fine. When I come back, maybe we can sit in here and do some more drawing together?"

I was quiet for a moment, then released him, shifting to lean up against the side of the wagon as best I could with my leg stretched out sideways across the bed. "I'm sorry, I'm acting like a child. You ain't gotta promise me a reward if I'm a good girl."

Arthur chuckled quietly, shaking his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he said with a grin, "don't you wanna?"

"Of course!"

"Well then, just look forward to that," he teased, stood up, and leaned down to kiss the top of my head. "You just relax, you ain't been well today. You don't need to be stressin' about me."

"I'll try my best. Now I ain't gonna keep you no more, go and do what you need to do. You better be safe," I said, handing him his hat from where it was sitting atop a storage crate by the bed. He settled it on his head, his eyes on mine. 

"I'll do my best for you, angel," he smiled. "See you real soon."

I nodded and smiled back, not wanting to speak in fear that he'd hear how scared I really was. He turned and left, and I watched him speed over to Jet, who he fed an apple to and gave a quick brush before mounting, and riding out of camp. He disappeared between the trees and I sighed, knocking my head back against the side of the wagon. I decided to stay sitting up, despite the awkward angle my leg was at, because I was sick and tired of laying down. People tended to avoid me like that, perhaps thinking I was sleeping, or unfit for visitors. At least sitting upright made me feel a little less like an outsider to the camp, just a patient, waiting to recover. 

The camp was quiet now that everyone had settled in and found their place in the new location. Jack and Tilly were playing with the dominoes (whether an actual game of dominoes was going on, I couldn't be sure). Mary-Beth and Susan were trying to get Karen to stay put on her bedroll, she’d thrown up twice since arriving, the mix of beer and whiskey not settling right in her stomach after all the stress. At least I wasn't the only one to have christened the new spot with my stomach contents… Micah was loitering around outside Dutch’s tent (which was still closed off, concealing him from the rest of us), and Bill and Uncle were sitting at the table nearby. Everyone else was dotted around doing little jobs or guarding the camp. I wasn't sure where Charles was, but he’d set out on Taima not long after we’d arrived. 

I slumped in my seat, not really sure what to do with myself. 

“You feelin’ any better?” Lenny appeared by the side of the tent, coming around from the back with a bundle of books in his hands. I smiled at him widely, glad to see him again. 

“Much. Thanks for sitting with me on the way over. That was real kind of you, and you made the journey much better,” I told him, and he shook his head with a smile.

“No problem. I got you some books, I don't know how much of a reader you are. There’s a couple of mine, but I asked Mary-Beth too, thought she’d have some of a little more interest to you,” he said, and I was touched once again by the kindness of those around me. 

“Oh, Lenny. Thank you,” I beamed, taking the books from his outstretched hands.

“Well, I know how it feels to be laid up with a bad leg, remember?” He gave me a little smirk and I nodded. I glanced at his ankle.

“How’d that heal up, by the way?”

“Fine, I can barely tell it even happened,” he informed me, much to my happiness.

“Oh, good, I hope Maggie made amends,” I laughed.

“Oh, sure, she’s been real good. Ain’t even tried stealin’ apples from Pearson’s wagon once since then,” he snorted, “anyway, I better go take over from Javier. Hope those books give you a little entertainment.”

“Alright, thanks again, Lenny,” I gave him a little wave as he headed off.

“No worries,” he called back.

I looked down at the pile of books and began sifting through them, reading the titles. Nothing grabbed me until I came across a pale purple book with golden words on the cover, and I stopped to tilt the thing back and forth to admire the way it caught the light. How pretty! _The Castle in the Field of Lavender_ , it was titled. I put the other books aside, and flicked my chosen one open to the first page.

-

It was definitely one of Mary-Beth’s books. Well, it _could_ have been Lenny’s, but I just couldn't see him reading about the beautiful, French, enigmatic Mademoiselle la Comtesse and her love affair with Pierre, the Duc of La Mochelle. I couldn't put the damn thing down. I was engrossed, turning page after page all afternoon, for hours, making it over half-way through the book in one sitting. It was undoubtedly _the most_ entertaining book I’d ever read.

I was so engaged with it that I didn’t even hear Susan approach. I just winced when light suddenly hit my eyes, and then I realised that it had become dark, the sun almost completely set! Susan placed a newly-lit lamp down on the crate next to me. 

“If you’re gonna keep reading, you’d best have some light. You’ll strain your eyes reading in the dark,” she said.

“Thanks,” I smiled, watching as she peered at the cover of the book, seeing what I was reading.

“Must be a good book.”

“It’s absolutely _dreadful_ ,” I told her bluntly, “but it sure is entertaining.”

“How’d you mean?” She seemed puzzled, frowning at me and cocking her head.

“Well, Mademoiselle la Comtesse’s horse, which is the colour of a French horse, just whinnied Frenchly,” I explained, and Susan chuckled, shaking her head.

“That’s one of Mary-Beth’s,” she nodded in understanding, “now d’you see why I get so irritated with her reading those things instead of doing her chores? Filling her head with nonsense. I hope I ain’t gotta worry about you, now, as well.”

“It’s harmless,” I grinned.

“If you say so,” she shook her head, tutted, and wandered off. 

I giggled to myself, glancing down to find my place on the page, though I was soon distracted by the sound of hoof beats at the edge of camp. My heart pounded when I saw two horses galloping in, the first of which carrying Sadie, and behind her, John. He was dressed in a striped jumpsuit, fresh from the penitentiary. Arthur was close behind them, the orange glow emanating from the camp catching on the sweat on the high planes of his face. A burst of energy crackled down every limb, my heart jumping, something close to joy erupting in my chest at the sight of them all. John: home at last, returning to Abigail and Jack. Arthur and Sadie: both safe and sound and able to pat themselves on the back for pulling off what might seem like the impossible. 

I was so happy, I swung my leg over to rise up to my feet, collapsing straight back down with a hiss of pain when I was reminded of the state of my leg. 

"Fuck," I growled to myself, my hand going to the dressing, fingers wanting to claw into my leg as if that would make it better when it obviously wouldn't. I felt a little embarrassed, and gingerly scooted back onto the bed with a quiet whimper, pressing my lips together. Luckily no one saw my stupidity. 

I sat back and watched as the three of them dismounted, and Abigail rushed over to give John a hug. He caught sight of me from over her shoulder, and I flashed him a big, welcoming smile, which he returned. It fell, though, when Dutch reappeared from his tent at the sound of all the commotion.

"John, what are you doing here?" He shouted across the camp, closing the gap between them.

"It's good to see you too, partner," John replied with a bite to his tone I was surprised to hear directed at Dutch. Arthur strolled closer to them, and he, John and Abigail faced Dutch – flanked by Micah – like they weren't a gang of friends. Like they were against each other. My eyes widened and my ears strained to hear what they were saying, but I couldn't. Only when someone raised their voice or used a sharpened tone did I catch it.

Dutch was talking, his brow furrowed in anger.

"Yeah, I know what you said," I caught part of Arthur's response, his tone irritated and, frankly, tired. 

Dutch didn't like whatever Arthur was telling him, he spoke in a low voice, gesturing to himself and then I heard; "what then, Arthur?

"I guess we'll have another fight on our hands," Arthur's response was gravelly and pissed off. I began to sweat. This wasn't what I expected to happen when John was finally home. I thought Dutch would be at least a little happy to see him, alive and no longer threatened with the noose!

"I had a goddamn plan!" Dutch yelled. Then he addressed John.

"They was talking of hanging me, Dutch–"

"They was _talking_ … and now they may come and hang us all!" Were Dutch's final, dramatic words before he retreated with a swagger to his steps like he was far more intimidating than he actually looked. Micah shook his head like a disapproving elderly and trotted away behind Dutch, his lips practically puckered at the man's behind. I was surprised he didn't have a snarky comment.

Abigail, with a face that was likely potent enough to kill, tugged John by the arm away into their shared tent, shutting the world out behind them. Arthur lingered in his spot for a moment, watching Dutch disappear inside his tent once more, his jaw set solid and tense, likely doing his teeth no good. I called out his name, and he looked over at me, his expression loosening just a bit. There was a pause, he glanced around at the others in camp who were only just beginning to stop staring in shock, then he was approaching me. 

He freed the curtains around the tent, letting them drop closed around us, shutting off our private little space. His back was to me, and I could see his shoulders expanding quickly with heavy, shaky breaths. His fists were clenched tight. He was practically shaking. 

"Arthur," I whispered softly. He didn't respond, and I heard him trying to steady his breath. I gave him time.

"Sadie and I risk our necks to save one of our own, and _that's_ the thanks we get?" He said under his breath, tone gruff. "Marston gets back after being gone weeks, locked up and facing _death_ , and this is his welcome home party?" His voice raised a little. 

I kept my mouth shut, knowing that he was completely justified in his anger, and not wanting to make things worse by spitting poison about the man who'd caused it. 

"I just–" Arthur spun around to look at me– "he ain't who I believed him to be all those years. The Dutch I know ain't like this. He's always spoutin' off about _loyalty_ , but it seems that only matters when it's his ass that's bein' kissed! Damn the rest of us."

"I know," I whispered in a small voice. Arthur sighed loudly and gave his head a sharp shake. 

"If it was up to him, I'd still be swinging upside-down in the O'Driscolls' den, and John'd be swinging from his goddamn neck," he muttered, then stormed over to sit down on the edge of the bed. I sat up and rubbed his shoulder. "How can he call us family? How can he look John in the eye, tell him he's his _brother?_ His _son?"_ He scoffed, lip curling in disgust. 

I kneaded his shoulders with my fingertips.

"I jus' don't understand," his final words were defeated. Sad, more than angry. I leaned forwards, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

"Perhaps in the morning he'll have changed his tune," I suggested, nestling my cheek against his. 

"Mm," he grunted disinterestedly. 

"Thank you for rescuing John. He saved my life, he's the very reason I have you in my life. It's so good to see him reunited with his family. If Dutch don't appreciate it, who cares? You did the right thing, and that's what's important," I told him. His hand raised to stroke my forearms. 

"Yeah, I s'pose that's right," he mumbled. 

"Don't think about Dutch. You can't change the way he acts, so just focus on the people who ain't questioning you, who know why you do what you do."

He took my hand, interlaced our fingers and lifted the back of my hand to his mouth to press a sweet kiss there. He hummed softly with a sigh, then tilted his head to look at me from the corner of his eye.

"You're good at that," he said, and when I looked at him blankly, he elaborated, "at calmin' me down."

I didn't say anything, I just kissed his cheek. 

"How're you feeling now?" He asked. 

"I'm feeling fine, now you're back. Spent the evening reading one of Mary-Beth's books," I told him, lifting it up and showing him the cover. The corner of his lip curled up. 

"One o' them romances? Hope this ain't giving you unrealistic expectations of me," he teased. 

"Not in the slightest," I snorted, dropping the book down on the bed. 

"Knock, knock," a husky voice came from outside the tent, and I smiled at the sound of John's voice, even happier than I thought I'd be to hear it again. 

"Come on in," I called out, detangling myself from Arthur and leaning back on the pillow. "It's good to see you," I grinned at him when he slipped inside.

"Glad someone is," he laughed darkly in response, then gestured to my leg, "Abigail told me 'bout what happened to you. Sounded pretty nasty."

"Well, it weren't no fun," I snorted, "but I'm getting there. I'll just be glad when I can get out of camp for a little fresh air."

"How is it? You in a lot of pain?" He asked me with a small wince on his face. Arthur glanced over his shoulder for my response. 

"A bit," I shrugged slightly. It was more than a bit, but there was no point in making everyone feel bad for me.

"Well, I guess you've got an excuse to drink a lot of whiskey," he laughed, trying to find a silver lining I suppose. I laughed, but I struggled to pour much genuine humour into it. "I uh, I know these last few weeks ain't been easy on all'a you. Abigail said you was real good to her while I was away. Thanks for being there for her."

"She did the same for me," I told him.

"Yeah?" He smiled, then glanced at Arthur with a playful gleam in his eye, "well, ain't that nice, Arthur? The wives're getting along."

Arthur breathed a quiet laugh, hanging his head between his shoulders and idly scratching at his wrist. I rolled my eyes in amusement.

"Anyway, how was it in prison?" I asked him. He grunted.

"About what you'd expect. Pretty awful. But hey, ain't had such a solid roof over my head for so long in a while, so I guess you could say it was uh, a bit of a novelty. Wore off pretty quick, though," he explained, pushing a smile onto his face that didn't strike me as genuine. 

"You were in there for what, a month at least?" I noted, and he looked down at his shuffling feet. 

"Yeah, I guess it weren't all that long. Least I was dry, and in the country. Just about, anyway," he laughed, meeting Arthur's eyes. 

"A month is a long time," I disagreed. "Anyway, I'm just glad to have you back. Now we're all together again, things'll get easier, I'm sure."

"I sure hope so. I don't know what Dutch's grand plan is, but I'm about ready to hear it."

"Ain't we all?" Arthur muttered.


	52. Just a Social Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I very nearly didn’t post today. I hated this chapter and the one that comes after it, but after speaking to a couple of friends and sitting my ass down to rework them, I feel much better :) I hope you guys like this chapter even though it’s not too eventful. I do often worry about these kinds of chapters… But anyway, it includes some wound treatment, and lots of conversation with Charles, Micah and John, because hey, conversation is just what I do :’)

I was reliving it. The screaming and yelling and the gunfire, the searing pain; ice cold, burning hot, ice cold. The blind panic, the total belief that I was going to die, that Arthur was too, and the rest of the gang. That everything was going up in smoke, literally, all around me. And it _hurt_. Physically and mentally, and my heart was thudding so hard in my chest it ached and soon I jolted awake, my eyes flashing open. 

My mouth was dry and I swallowed a couple of times, looking around the tent as my pulse began to return to normal, and my surroundings brought me out of the terrifying landscape my mind had painted in my sleep. I lifted my head and spotted a cup of water that Arthur must've left for me, since he wasn't around; already gone from his bedroll on the floor next to the bed I'd temporarily stolen from him. I reached for the cup and quenched my dry mouth, exhaling loudly as I put the cup back down and slumped back against the bed.

I stared up at the top of the tent and thought about my dream, about how real it had felt, just like the night it happened. I didn't know why I'd dreamt about it. I didn't like that I had. But it was only a dream, and I took comfort in the knowledge that I'd made it out alive and now here I was; safe and recovering.

The fabric of the tent was pinned back just a little to allow a breeze into the space, the sun was beating down and it was stuffy and humid, so the cooler air seeping in from the gap was appreciated. I shifted, peering through the gap into the camp; I spotted John, Arthur and Karen all sitting around the campfire, just being joined by Abigail. I sighed and slumped back down onto my back, resenting my injury from keeping me held back, away from everyone else. 

My eyes went out of focus where I gazed at the split in the canvas, from my position I saw trees and sky, though it all blurred into a mix of pale blue and brown as I lost myself for a while in the murmurs of the camp. I heard Abigail laughing, followed by Arthur and Karen, and wondered if John had said something funny. I sighed sadly, then jumped when a mass blocked out the sky through the gap. 

My eyes refocused; the mass appeared to be Charles, standing outside the tent. 

"Hello?" I called out when he didn't immediately do anything. 

"Oh, hey," he responded, "I was trying to listen to see if you were asleep."

"Come in," I invited, and he lifted the canvas and hesitantly peered inside, like he was expecting to find me in my undergarments or something. "Would you open it up fully, please? I feel lonely," I chuckled.

"Of course," he nodded, then set to work pulling back the majority of the canvas that was closing me off from the rest of the camp. "How're you feeling?"

"Pretty good. The burn behind my knee is giving me some trouble, though," I admitted.

"Yeah? That's why I'm here," he began, picking something up from the floor just outside the tent. It was a mortar and pestle, filled with purple flowers. "I went hunting yesterday, brought back some meat this morning, but I came across some lavender."

"Lavender," I repeated curiously. As he approached and moved a crate to sit down on, I caught the scent of the purple flowers inside the mortar, a lovely soft, fresh, soothing scent.

"Yeah, I thought I could mash it up, make a paste. If you want, we could put it on your wounds, it should help with the inflammation, and help keep at bay any infection," he told me. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course,” I nodded.

"I'll be as gentle as I can. Has anyone checked your wounds today?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, I'll take a look soon," he said, then placed the mortar on his lap, taking the pestle and beginning to grind the flowers down. 

The scent became stronger as he crushed the flowers, releasing the oils and fragrance into the air. I breathed in deeply, glancing out towards the sky as I laid back and waited. It smelled incredible. 

"How've you been sleeping?" Charles asked me after a moment, over the repetitive sound of the pestle rubbing along the bottom of the mortar. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, watching him add more lavender from a pouch he wore on his gun belt. I hesitated for a few moments before responding.

"Okay. Arthur was in here with me. I sleep better with him around," I told him, and Charles hummed in acknowledgement. "How're you doing? What do you think of the new camp?"

"It's not my favourite place," he admitted. "This whole area feels… dark. I don't like it. I prefer being further south-west. The trees out here; there's a lot of forest. Makes it hard to keep track of your surroundings. When I was hunting, I kept making myself paranoid, always looking over my shoulder. Like there's people everywhere, but they're good at hiding." 

"Oh, don't tell me that. You'll freak me out," I chuckled. Charles smirked.

"The girl who grew up in the swamp, getting freaked out so easily?" He teased. 

"I guess I got used to the swamp, and all the spooky things you hear at night."

"Swanson seemed to think the swamp was haunted," he pointed out.

"It could very well be. I always wondered. There were stories when I was growing up, 'bout a woman who haunts Bluewater Marsh, telling passing cowboys that she loves them." 

"Yeah? Maybe she just weren't interested in me," he snorted. I laughed, shaking my head at him. 

"I never heard anything that couldn't be explained away somehow," I told him. "It's probably just overactive imaginations. But it's understandable, it's creepy. You don't know what's out there in the fog, and some of the sounds the wildlife makes, you'd think it was a lonely spirit, crying out."

"Well, a spirit won't hurt you. People, though. The Night Folk? You didn't seem worried about them, so you shouldn't worry too much about the Murfree Brood, as long as you stick around camp or go out with a partner."

I chuckled, "sticking 'round camp should be easy, not sure I'll be going out for a while," I said. Charles hummed quietly, a little guiltily, but I smiled at him to show him I wasn't put out by the comment.

"You'll heal fast if you keep doing what you're doing; lots of rest and regular check ups."

I nodded in understanding. 

"I've spent time out here before," I changed the subject, "a little further south. After my parents passed I was looking for work, I came to Van Horn to see if there was anything going. I didn't have much luck, but I liked the place. I used to go up the lighthouse and look at the view, even slept up there a couple times after we lost the house. Never strayed into the forests too much, though."

"Van Horn. That's just a little place, right?" He asked. I nodded my head.

"Ain't much to it, and I wouldn't call it pretty. But it's near the water, and it's usually quiet."

"You like being near the water?" 

"Yeah. I always liked that about growing up in the swamps, only in Van Horn, or 'round Flat Iron lake at Clemens Point, there ain't no alligators," I chuckled. "I don't know. The sound of the water lapping up against the shore has always been nice to me. What sort of place do you like?"

"Anywhere that's open," he told me. "I don't like cities. Or even really towns. I liked being out west, before Blackwater. That's the freest place I've been; only it's so damn hot out there. The sun doesn't pull any punches. So uh, I guess The Heartlands, near our camp at Horseshoe Overlook. That was my kind of place. Minus all the O'Driscolls and Cornwall's henchmen."

"Yeah, I liked that place too," I nodded, letting out a soft sigh. 

"May I?" Charles nodded to my leg as he put the mortar aside.

"Of course, thank you," I said hitching my skirt up enough to expose my bandaged leg.

"My hands are clean. I washed them before I came in and started working with the flowers," he assured me as he scooted forwards, and delicately began unwinding the bandage. 

I glanced over at the mortar, seeing a pulpy, thick paste inside. I pressed my lips together as he peeled the dressing's final layer away from my skin. I didn't look as he inspected it. Each time someone came to check my wounds, I was nervous, half expecting them to discover puss and all sorts, dooming me. 

"It looks like it's healing well," he told me, and I released a relieved breath. "I'm going to have to touch it to apply this, you think you can handle it?"

"Yeah," I nodded. 

"How's the patient, doc?" Arthur's voice made me jump a little. I glanced towards the foot of the bed to where he was leaning up against the side of the wagon with his coffee in his hand. 

"She's okay. She's letting me apply some lavender to her burns. It should help soothe them, and lessen any pain."

"They don't look too bad," Arthur commented. "Still hurting?" He glanced at me. 

"A little," I nodded. 

"When she says a little, I'm concerned she means a lot, and she's just putting on a brave face," Charles mused quietly in a monotone.

"I might be inclined to share that concern, Mr. Smith," Arthur nodded, his eyes on mine. 

"It's… moderate. Hurts worse in the evening, for some reason."

Charles hummed thoughtfully. "The blistered parts don't look as bad, they're going down. I'll avoid those, don't want to risk bursting them," he told me, and I watched him as he scooped some of the lavender pulp onto his fingers, and gingerly packed it against my leg, sticking to the less severe of my burns. He was careful enough that it only hurt a little more than it did anyway.

"You think it'll scar?" I asked. 

"I… I'd be surprised if it didn't. But I can't imagine it'll be too bad. Probably only on the worst parts, like here; on the outer part of your calf," he explained, and I nodded in understanding. 

Charles was very gentle as he applied the paste, pressing carefully and only enough to make sure it stuck. It caused discomfort, of course, but not a lot. Arthur was quiet, staring down at my leg with a slightly pursed mouth and a look of deep thought on his face, his brow furrowed a bit. I knew him well enough by then that I could tell he was feeling guilty, just like he had the night it happened. Just like he had when my neck was wounded by the O'Driscoll.

"Scars don't really bother me. Just a reminder of how lucky we all are to be alive, right?" I said, and they both glanced at me. 

"I guess that's one way of looking at it," Charles said, and I looked at the scar across his cheek, wondering if it bothered him. It shouldn't, I thought, it was interesting, as far as scars went. It framed his face in a way that gave him something extra, rather than take away. Similarly to John's. Perhaps I was odd, thinking that scars made a person more interesting to look at. 

I looked at Arthur, then, seeing him thumb the scar on his own chin, and I smiled at him. The smile he returned to me was small but affectionate.

"Okay, just gotta wrap this back up, alright? How was that?" Charles asked, sitting back and reaching for the tin of medical supplies that stayed on the table by the bed while I was recovering. He opened it up and retrieved some fresh dressing. 

"It was fine. Thank you, Charles," I nodded, nibbling on my bottom lip for a moment as he began to wrap my leg back up. "Actually, thank you for everything. I never said this, but when it happened, I know I clung to you like a baby; thank you for being there."

"Don't thank me. I just happened to be next to you, I didn't do anything special," he replied, his voice a little quiet and uncomfortable. He stole a glance at Arthur, then added, "I know I wouldn't've been your first choice," he released a laugh. 

I wasn't really sure why he said that, or what he meant by it exactly. Arthur was staring at him too, looking about as clueless as me. 

"Well, I appreciated your support in that moment. It was scary, I wasn't really sure what had happened but you kept me grounded," I continued, meeting Charles' eyes again. He simply nodded, his lips sealed. 

Arthur took a drink of his coffee, screwing his face up. "I think I'll have to bar Mr. Duffy from making the coffee. This is so bitter, it's barely drinkable," he murmured, "you folks want any coffee? Think I'll make a fresh batch." 

"Oh, that'd be nice," I nodded, "thanks."

"I'm good, thanks," Charles said, and then Arthur headed off with a nod. Charles finished bandaging my leg, and was closing up the tin when he spoke again, "sorry for the odd response earlier. I know Arthur's been feeling guilty over all this and not being able to keep you safe. I didn't want to make him feel like I was somehow– I don't know. I know he would've liked to have been there for you that night, instead."

I looked at him for a moment, considering. "You didn't want to make him feel worse. Or… inadequate," I murmured. 

"Yeah. Didn't take me long to figure out what kind of person he is. I don't think he's the jealous type, I think he's more likely to just feel bad about himself," he said, and I glanced over at Arthur where he was making the coffee across the camp. 

"You hit the nail on the head. I weren't thanking you to rub his face in it or nothing–"

"No, I know."

"Did he say something to you?" I questioned. He took a breath as he wiped his hands on his pants, ridding himself of bits of crushed lavender.

"When we were heading up here together, it was a long ride. We talked about a lot of things, about Guarma. About what happened while he was away. About the gang, and of course, you came up," he explained. He paused for a while before elaborating, and I was beginning to worry that Arthur would return before he could finish. "He's scared for you. He's never had a woman he loves in the gang before, he didn't realise how much it was going to worry him. Apparently he invited Mary to run with the gang a couple times, back when they were together. I think he's starting to realise how naive he used to be, now he's being stared in the face by just how fragile life can be."

"Seeing so many people he cares about die in the space of a few months will do that to a person, I suppose," I sighed. 

"Exactly," he nodded. 

I'd realised by then that Arthur was a nurturing person at heart, but he didn't realise it himself. He took on so much responsibility for the gang, and after I came into his life and we fell for each other, he felt responsible for keeping me safe too. I could see that he felt like somewhat of a failure when for whatever reason, he couldn't.

I hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Whenever I've spoken to him, he seems torn. He keeps saying he wants us to leave, find a safer life together. But he cares for this gang so much– I know it ain't gonna happen until he knows everyone else has a future. And I understand that." 

"There comes a point though…" Charles began under his breath, looking over his shoulder briefly, "where he has to realise that all of us? The gang? We've got each other. We'll figure a way with or without him, it ain't hanging on his shoulders alone. But you two? I, uh… I don't know. Maybe he needs to think about what he's putting first. Who really needs him the most. What _he_ needs."

I stared at Charles with slightly parted lips, my mind reeling, buzzing. I didn't know what to say. He had a point and his words forced me to wonder and really question; did Arthur _actually_ want to leave with me?

Arthur returned a few moments later, handing me a cup of fresh, hot coffee once I'd shifted to sit upright. I thanked him, and blew across the top of the cup, waiting for it to cool enough to sip. 

"I need to get something to eat, then I'm heading out again," Charles announced, smacking his palms against his thighs before pushing up to his feet. 

"Where you going? Anything you need a second gun for?" Arthur asked. 

"Oh, it's not always a job for guns, Arthur," Charles told him, a playful sternness in his tone at Arthur's automatic assumptions. "I'm going to the reservation. Bringing them some supplies; food, mostly. I'll manage alone. I thought you had somewhere to be today, anyway."

"Ahh, I don't know if I'm goin'," Arthur waved a hand dismissively. 

"Going where?" I asked curiously. 

"Got a letter from that Braithwaite girl," Arthur replied.

"Excuse me," Charles said quietly, ducking out of the tent and leaving us to talk. 

"Thanks again, Charles. Take care of yourself," I said before he left, and he nodded. 

"See you later," Arthur added.

"Penelope?" I asked Arthur, sipping my coffee as he took Charles' place by the bed. He hummed with a nod. "What did she say?"

"She's requested my help. After I helped out with that march of hers I guess she figured I wouldn't mind helping her again, but it's an awful long way away now. Not sure if I wanna head back down south just yet," he breathed, rubbing at his eye with his free hand. 

"Is it too dangerous?" I frowned. 

He sighed quietly. "No," he admitted a little glumly, "I lost that excuse when I busted John from the state penitentiary. Sneaking into the Braithwaite's place is a little less dangerous than that."

"But you don't wanna go," I noted. 

"She wants me to get her out of there, bring her to meet what's-his-face at the train station," he explained, "It's a long way away from here," he reiterated. 

"I remember you telling me we'd help them, if we could," I said softly. Arthur laughed through his nose, smirking.

"I thought you might remember that," he murmured. 

"I ain't gonna force you, not since I can't come along with you or do it myself," I shrugged, drinking more coffee, glancing out towards the main campfire. Arthur was quiet for a few moments.

"No, I'll go. Who knows, might make us a bit of money," he eventually said under his breath. 

"Yeah? Not 'cause you're a hopeless romantic at heart?" I teased. Arthur rolled his eyes at me. "Oh, an eye roll, you've been a real rogue these days. Disobeying orders, showing a little attitude," I smirked at him as I teased, and he huffed a laugh.

"Should I apologise for my transgressions?" He queried, cocking a brow.

"No. Not if this is you realising you're perfectly capable of thinking for yourself," I replied, thinking back to our conversation in his room at Shady Belle, when he admitted that he'd never _had_ to think for himself, he just did as he was told.

"Mm. Maybe it is."

"You seen Dutch this morning?"

"Not really, I think he's still pissed off at me."

"Well then, he's a fool."

"I see Jack playing with his pa and it don't matter much to me what Dutch thinks. A boy should have his daddy around, if it can be helped," he mumbled, staring down into his coffee cup. My lips parted, but I drew a blank; I knew what he was thinking about. I reached a hand to his knee, giving it a squeeze.

"Arthur, I want you to know I'm proud of you. You're harder on yourself than anybody else is, but you have a lot of good in you. It always prevails," I told him, not minding that he kept his eyes down rather than meeting mine. "It's why I love you. One of the many reasons."

"It's when you say things like that, I just picture packing up all our stuff onto this wagon and just getting the hell out of here before Dutch can even tell me what he thinks of the idea," he murmured. I withdrew my hand, cupped my coffee with both hands as I stared at him for a while. Eventually, he looked up at me to analyse my silence. 

“I won’t hold my breath, but you know I’d never protest,” I sighed. Arthur looked sad for a moment, but I smiled at him, not wanting to go there. He smiled back and took a breath.

"Alright, princess. I got a love story to meddle in, haven't I?" He smirked.

"You go meddle in it, cross that off your list. One thing at a time," I smiled at him, "I'll be here when you get back, ain't going anywhere," I gestured to my leg with a sigh. 

Arthur retrieved his coffee, downed the remainder, then stood up. He cupped the back of my skull and kissed my forehead, then smoothed his palm over my hair a few times before straightening up. 

"I'll see you later, sweetheart. Can I get you anything before I go?" He queried, and I shook my head. 

"I'm all good, thank you."

"What about a kiss, can I tempt you with one o' those?" He asked. I chuckled at the unexpected offer, and nodded. 

"Go on then," I said, then he leaned down again, a finger under my chin to lift my lips to his. The kiss was tame and sweet, just enough for me to taste him and leave me greedily wanting more. Then he smiled at me one last time, and left.

-

I was excited to hear that Micah needed a button reattached to a pair of trousers. Not that I particularly enjoyed doing chores for him, he always seemed to get some sort of weird, gloating enjoyment from it, like he felt that me doing him a favour somehow gave him validation that he was above me. But I was just bored. Tired of feeling like a useless layabout, wanting to contribute to _something_ , I was restless without productivity. I understood all too well how Arthur had felt during his recovery after his return from the O'Driscolls. 

So, I sat on the bed with my sewing kit, doing an especially good job of repairing the garment, making sure that the button wasn't going anywhere any time soon. The monotonous task of looping the thread through the button, pulling it flush to the trousers, securing, fixing, maintaining, was nice to absorb myself in and killed some time. When it was repaired, I did a good scan of the beige fabric, pulling seams, inspecting stitching, searching for anything that might need my attention. I found a row of loose stitching on the inner seam, and so I spent a few minutes more taking some preventative measures in reinforcing it. 

By the time I was done they were as good as new. I folded them neatly and handed them back to him when he came over to me in the afternoon.

"Thanks, doll, you ain't left no pins in there to stab me in the nutsack, have you?" He asked when he tucked them under his arm, crumpling them. 

"I'm low on pins, ain't worth wasting one on your nutsack," I murmured in response. 

"Right. Anyway, whenever Morgan gets back from whatever he's out doing, you let him know Dutch and I are in Annesburg, won't you? Need him to join us, soon as possible," he told me, his tone all serious and authoritative.

"Annesburg. What're you doing out there? I can tell you right now there ain't much worth robbing over there, ain't exactly a rich town."

"Business, my dear. Ain't nothing you gotta worry your pretty head about," he cooed, and I frowned in confusion. 

"What business you got? I'll worry my pretty head all I like, when you and Dutch are pulling Arthur out to some middle-of-nowhere mining town for _business_ , when not twenty-four hours ago you was looking at him like he was the spawn of Satan for going out and _damning_ us all," I spat, cocking my head.

"As much as I'm sure he'd love to spend all day hiding under your skirt, we've got wind of Cornwall stopping through there, Dutch wants to go pay him a visit to talk things out like men, try and stop him sending the Pinkertons after us like foxes to a coop," Micah explained, idly picking up the photograph of me standing up on one of the crates along with all of Arthur's other keepsakes. His moustache curled snidely at the sight of it, then he put it back down. "Don't worry. We ain't going out there to bump off old Sparkly Blues Morgan."

I snorted at Micah's attempt at a derogatory name for him, taking it only as proof that even he had noticed how lovely Arthur's eyes were. 

I smiled tightly. "Alright. I'll let him know." 

"Good girl," he grinned, nodded courteously, and spun on his heel to leave. My gut churned at his tone and his praise. It astounded me how different those words felt whenever Arthur whispered them to me.

“What was all that about?” A gravelly voice startled me and I gasped when John rounded the corner from behind the wagon. 

“Jesus, John,” I breathed, and he smirked at me.

“Sorry,” he laughed.

“It weren’t nothing. He just wanted me to pass a message on to Arthur,” I told him with a casual shrug. I looked him up and down, pleased to see him cleaned up and looking slightly less like a delinquent. “How’re you settling in?”

“Good as I could hope, considering daddy didn't want me back,” he said drily, coming and sitting up on the table next to the bed, putting his feet up on the chair. I smiled in amusement at his choice of seat. 

“I’m glad you’re back, I hope that counts for something,” I told him quietly and he looked at me from the corner of his eye.

“Yeah, it does, actually,” he exhaled, then looked at me fully. “I uh… I wanted to ask you somethin’,” he began.

“Okay,” I nodded, cocking my head.

“Since you’re a woman, I guess I feel like you’d be the best for this,” he said, and I raised my brows a little, curiosity piqued, “do you… really think Abigail and I got a chance?”

“I’m sorry,” I balked, completely astounded as to why he’d think I was qualified to answer such a question.

“Well, she’s been _different_ since I been back, I can't explain it. She’s nicer. I feel like maybe things are looking up, but I don’t quite know where I stand,” he sighed, gesticulating anxiously, “I’m sure you know by now what a shitty man I’ve been to her. I guess I wanna know, do you reckon a woman could ever forgive a man like me?”

“I really ain’t the one to ask this, and I think you know that,” I said, and he sighed heavily, though he nodded.

“At least give me some… reassurance,” he pleaded and I chuckled.

“You want reassurance,” I repeated drily, glancing out over the camp, considering.

“I know I ought to be speaking to her about this. And we have, a little, but somehow I feel like she ain’t being as open with me as she could be. Or maybe I’m not. I don't know, I ain’t ever been good at this,” he grumbled, clearly frustrated with himself. I met his eyes and offered him a comforting smile.

“John, just tell her how you feel. If you want to make things really work with her then she’s gotta know your heart’s in it, and not that you’re just going through the motions because it’s what everyone expects of you,” I told him, leaning closer to him, _“is_ it what you want?”

He was quiet for a few long seconds, his eyes dropping down to his feet. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon it is,” he said under his breath.

“Then tell her. She’ll appreciate that. Transparency is the most important–” I caught myself, realising I was sounding far more knowledgeable than I really had any right pretending I was, “if being with Arthur has taught me anything, it’s that being honest and transparent is a lot easier than holding things back.”

“You two seem to have it figured out. Relationships, I mean, you seem to just work,” John mused, and it put a smile on my face.

“Arthur and I… we’ve got our own stuff,” I told him softly, “but we talk, that’s all.”

“I don’t know if talkin’s gonna solve all me and Abigail's problems, talking usually turns into shouting,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Well, maybe not, but it’s a start. Just… try not to let it get to the shouting stage,” I smiled sheepishly. 

“That ain’t usually my call.”

“Hey, that’s the kind of flippant attitude that’ll get you yelled at,” I snorted, smacking his knee lightly.

“Alright!” He snickered, crossing his arms over his chest. I exhaled loudly and smiled at him.

“You and Abigail can work if you try, that's my official response; as a _woman,”_ I smirked. “You just need to speak to each other. She loves you, and so does Jack. Don’t squander what you’ve got. You’ll need each other when this all falls apart.”

“You sound pretty confident that this-” he gestured to our surroundings- “ain’t being held together by much.”

“Well, do you disagree?” I queried.

“No. Guess I’m just surprised to hear you validate it,” he breathed.

We both fell into silence for a few moments, each staring off into space and letting the conversation sink in.

“John?” I started, softly and timidly.

“Mm?” He looked at me.

“Work things out with Abigail. Get out of here, both of you, with Jack,” I whispered. His dark eyes widened a bit as he stared, then he blinked and looked away, his lips parting but nothing coming out. “I think everybody knows that it’d be best for you.”

“I…” He tried, shaking his head, fiddling with his hands. “I don't know what’ll happen. We’re all just… doing our best, right?” He met my eyes again, his expression soft, brows arched.

“Yeah,” I nodded, words hushed and coming out with an exhale, “we are.”


	53. Ball and Chain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and reader discuss their situation. Thank you guys for all the support on the last chapter after I expressed my worries about it, btw!!

During Arthur's brief return, we hadn't had time to discuss how things had gone with Penelope and Beau (despite his busted lip that I was quick to ask about), Arthur had left for Annesburg as soon as I told him what Micah said. But when he got back that night, he filled me in on the details of the day. I was shocked to hear that simply accompanying Penelope to the train station had turned into Arthur shooting Christ knows how many members of the Braithwaite family from a moving train, but in the end Penelope and Beau got their happy ending. He left them with the stagecoach driver, taking them away to their new life together with a bag-full of stolen jewellery. A piece of which Penelope had given to Arthur as thanks for all of the help, a beautiful stone encrusted bracelet, probably worth a hefty sum. Arthur told me he intended to sell it, keep the money just for us, not giving the camp a cut for once in his life. I could tell it took a lot for him to come to that decision.

And Cornwall was dead. He told me that after a long pause when we were both bedding down for the night. Part of me was surprised that he hadn't told me that as soon as he returned, but the way he said it told me that he hadn't exactly been prepared for it happening. He told me that Dutch had said they were paying a social call, confirming what Micah had said about trying to cut a deal to get him off our backs. But it had turned into a bloodbath, just as most jobs did these days, and Dutch had shot Cornwall, point-blank. They were swarmed with Pinkertons and they had to shoot their way out of Annesburg, barely escaping. 

"And Micah thinks there's a rat," he said after relaying the gory details. He huffed an incredulous laugh. 

"In the gang? He reckons one of us is squealing?" 

"Mmhm, thinks the Pinkertons have been showing up too fast for it to be a coincidence," he sighed. I blinked up at the top of the tent. I thought about all the gang members, picturing each person's face, unable to make any sort of guess as to whether Micah's claims could be true. I just didn't see any of them talking. "He says we should start cutting folk loose, go back to Blackwater and get the money stashed there, and get out of here."

"Who's he wanna cut loose, exactly?" I frowned.

"Well, he was speaking to Dutch at the time. I got the distinct impression that by 'we', he meant him and Dutch," he murmured monotonously and deeply. "Sod the rest of us."

"He's… he really kisses Dutch's ass, don't he? It's almost uncomfortable," I whispered. 

"Mm, seems everyone sees it but Dutch himself. Micah's a creep, through and through."

"I'm embarrassed I ever gave him a chance. At the start, when we worked together a few times, I kept thinking he had potential to be a decent feller," I mumbled, shaking my head.

"Don't be embarrassed. You hadn't seen the full spectrum of his charming personality just yet," he snorted. "I think we all wanted to give him a chance at the start. Thought he was just a bit of an odd feller, not very nice. But we never warmed to him, not with all his behaviour." 

"How can he come in and accuse someone else of being a rat? My understanding is he's one of the newest folks, apart from me or Sadie," I said then I frowned, swallowing. "Or Kieran."

Arthur read my mind. "Kieran ain't the rat. Least I don't think so."

"You know that's who Micah will pick on, though. He was with the O'Driscolls," I whispered, rolling over onto my side and peering over the edge of the bed to look at Arthur where he was lying on the floor.

"His name did come up," he sighed. "And would you believe it, Dutch was even thinking about John when we was in Guarma."

"John? He thought John was a rat?" I balked.

"Yeah, I know," he murmured monotonously, shaking his head. "But I don't believe it's either of them. I don't believe we've got a rat full stop. We've just been sloppy, we ain't exactly been subtle. 'Specially not by blowing a hole in Leviticus Cornwall's chest, when we're camping not five minutes away!" He shook his head irritably.

"Jesus," I hissed, screwing my face up.

"Dutch is losing it. Or he already has, completely. I don't know," he whispered sharply. 

"What's he supposing we do?"

"Wants to make a bunch of _smoke_ , create a big enough distraction for us lot to piss off out of the state, maybe even the country, that's what he's supposin'," he told me, humour building in his throat. 

"Or do increasingly reckless bullshit until every one of us is lying in an unmarked grave and every Pinkerton on the case gets a medal," I proposed, and Arthur hummed his agreement. "Christ, Arthur, we can't do this. We can't go along with him. None of us, what if we start asking folk… seeing who'd be prepared to leave with us?" I suddenly asked, the words splurging from me without thought. His eyes widened a bit and he looked me in the eye in the dim light shining through the tent from the campfire. 

"You're really suggesting that we try and divide the gang, try and leave Dutch high and dry?" He sputtered. My heart thudded. Shit. I'd gone too far. 

"No. Never mind," I rolled back onto the bed, staring up above. 

"Wait, I ain't mad. Sorry, that came out different to how I meant," he shifted, sitting up and leaning his elbows on the bed. "I just– I couldn't. I ain't a leader, princess. I can't be what Dutch was to me."

"You wouldn't want to be what Dutch was to you," I replied instantly. His brow furrowed. "I don't doubt he was good to you over the years, provided you with a purpose and taught you all you needed to know to get by in this life. But that don't change the fact that lately all he's been doing is treating you like a grunt! You won't ever be like Dutch. And that's a good thing." 

Arthur was stunned by my words and I immediately began to feel anxious. I really was pushing my luck. If I wasn't careful I'd end up saying something that hurt him, and that's the last thing I wanted. I might've already done it. 

"I'm sorry. I'm just getting nervous. Hell, not even just getting there, I'm extremely nervous. I'm petrified that Dutch is gonna have one of his crazy moments again and you're gonna get hurt because of it, I'd never forgive him if something happened to you 'cause of his recklessness," I continued.

"I won't let that happen."

"I wish I could be reassured by that. But you ain't always in control of what happens, you can't say that."

Arthur sighed, looking down. 

"I… I know I ain't in control. I know I can't promise you anything. I'm just trying to– to spin too many plates at once but at this point I don't know how to stop. It ain't that easy," he whispered, and he sounded defeated. I instantly felt guilty. "I don't want to make excuses, and I don't wanna let you down."

"You've never let me down. Don't worry about that," I shook my head and sat up on my elbow, looking at him properly.

"My head's been all over the place. So much has– I still ain't wrapped my head 'round what's happened these past weeks, I can barely think straight half the time and I just can't figure out what to do," he sighed, dragging his hand over his face. My lips parted and I stared at him. "Guarma; that bank job, everything went so fast and I never had a chance to stop and think and now we've moved again, and Dutch is on about making _noise_ and leaving the country, and I– I don't like any of this. I don't like what he's doing but I wrack my brains and I just can't think of a goddamn thing to say to him to make him _see sense!"_

"Arthur, I'm sorry, I keep putting pressure on you," I breathed, shaking my head.

Arthur gestured towards my leg. "And this is the second time you could've been killed just 'cause I can't be a damn man and do right by you. And– and I know this and yet I still can't–" he stopped, sitting back, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. "This is the same shit Mary left me for."

"I ain't leaving you. I _ain't_ Mary," I hissed. If I sounded angry, I didn't mean to. 

"I know you're not, princess, you ain't nothing like her. Nothing like her at all, I'm sorry, I just meant that it weren't good enough for her so why on earth should it be good enough for you?"

"Arthur, I don't know what you want me to say," I shook my head. "You're telling me that your hesitance to get out is gonna make me leave you or something, but then you say you _can't_ get out. Every time we talk about this it goes nowhere, and we're just gonna keep going 'round and around in circles. I just want you to think about if it's what you actually want," I kept my voice as level as possible.

"Of course I want it," he told me, brows curving upwards. "Wouldn't be saying it if I didn't."

"I know you worry about the gang. But look at them, they're a whole group of adults, and they're all following Dutch. Nobody is expecting you to make sure they're all okay, that ain't your responsibility,” I told him, thinking about what Charles had said.

"I know," he said, his tone a bit sharp and irritated, not at me, but at the situation. Like he didn't want to admit that it was true.

"Does that bother you? That you _ain't_ responsible?" I asked, my brows quirking in surprise. 

"No! You know why I can't leave, and I know you’re scared… But I am too. Truth be told I'm scared for if I stay _and_ I'm scared for if I leave."

"If you _leave?"_ I repeated, not exactly expecting that.

" _Yes._ What if I can't do it?" He hissed, and I could simply frown in response. "What if I end up messing up and going back to my old ways and letting you down? Hosea once left. He and Bessie, the woman he loved with all his heart, they went off on their own and he ended up coming back because he was too set in his ways."

"Really?" I asked, mouth agape. I must’ve looked so dumb.

”What if I'm like that? What if I can't give you everything you need?" He continued, moving closer to the bed and leaning close to me, taking one of my hands in both of his. "I want you. I _want_ to go, I do. But in the back of my mind all I can think about is ruining both of our lives if I don't act right. I spent a lot of years being this way. What if I can't change? Mary wanted me to– I never could for her. What if I–"

I frowned in a different way at the mention of Mary again, a little annoyed. "I don't want you to change, like she did," I told him more sharply than necessary. I softened when he seemed to realise his error. "I ain't expecting you to all of a sudden go out and get yourself a fancy job somewhere, get us a big house with lots of neighbours and a dog and all this normal stuff. I don't want any of that. Well, I wouldn't mind having a dog…"

"You can have all the dogs you want," he breathed a laugh.

"Arthur, I'll be honest; if we have to… live in the grey areas of the law to get by, then, well, as long as we ain't doing nothing too big or loud, how's it different to the way I've always lived?" I admitted, shrugging softly. "You know I weren't always lawful when I was on my own. Don't change, Arthur. Just do what you have to do and always come home to me as the man I fell in love with."

"You mean that? You wouldn't be upset if I– if I can't settle into a normal life that easy?"

"Of course I wouldn't. Arthur, I'll probably struggle too. I don't mind waiting for it, neither. Just don't make me wait too long, till it can't happen no more," I whispered to him. "That's all I ask."

He pressed his forehead to my arm gently. “What worries me is you keep on reassuring me like this but nothing ever changes. I just _can’t_ go yet, and I want you to really understand why so you won't start thinking I’m always putting you last and you ain’t important.”

"I'm trying to understand. Tell me what's going on in your head," I pleaded, stroking his hair. 

"I will try my best. My head ain't exactly easy to figure out right now. Usually when I'm with you I can forget most of the shit going on and I'm happy, and I can't wait to get out with you," he spoke slowly and monotonously, as if he really had to try to word it right. "But then I go out on a job and it brings me right back down to earth, I get pulled back in the other direction, reminded of how many years I sunk into this gang and I can't just leave, not without making things right. Or at least trying to. And I owe that to you, too," he lifted his head and met my eyes.

"To me? Why?" I frowned.

"I ain't done much good in my life. I don't like who I am, who I have been, how can I give you everything you deserve if I can't even redeem myself and do _one_ good thing before this gang crumbles to dust?" His response caught me off guard. "I told you before I'm scared, and this is all part of that. If I can't show you that I can do right by these people I been loyal to for years, then what would my loyalty to you even mean? I'm scared that even if I say fuck it to everything and just run off with you, leaving all this behind, I ain't gonna be doing you a service. 'Cause all I'd be showing you is I ain't deserving of your trust."

And suddenly, despite the fact that I didn't want to accept it, I understood.

Arthur needed this, not just because he cared for these people, but because he had to see it through for himself. He had to prove to himself that he could _deserve_ the out our relationship had given him. He did deserve it, of course he did, but nothing I could say would convince him until he'd proved it to himself. And that's what getting John and his family and the others out would do, prove to him that he was _good_. At least, good enough to deserve something better than the pain and struggle his life up until that point had given him. 

And if Arthur was important to me and I genuinely wanted him to be happy; I had to let him do it.

"Okay," I whispered. "I get it, I do."

"Yeah?" He breathed. "You ain't just saying that to be kind to me?"

"No, I understand. I'm scared, but I know that you need this. I ain't gonna be the one to hold you back," I told him, flipping my hand to interlace our fingers. 

"Angel, I don't want to let you down. You're my world, you know that, don't you? I gotta do this so I can be the best I can for you. I won't be able to do that if I live with regrets, about the things I failed to do," he said, kissing the back of my hand. 

"I trust you. I really do. If you gotta do this and you promise me you'll draw lines where you have to, and you ain't gonna let Dutch use you like your life don't even matter," I squeaked, shaking my head, "then I won't put no more pressure on you. I'll be patient."

"I'll look out for myself," he nodded, "I got more reason than I ever really have to keep myself safe."

That was a little painful to hear. I reached my free hand out to cup his cheek. "I love you," I told him.

"And I'm real lucky you do. I don't know of many women who'd put up with me being like this," he exhaled a sheepish laugh, shaking his head.

"I guess that's lucky for me," I smirked a little and he chuckled.

"I love you too, my darlin', don't forget that you're what's pushing me to be better."

"Just… let's not have this conversation again until it's the right time to go. It feels like we've had it a million times and it ain't ever ended in us packing our bags– well. It did once, but things were different then," I said, remembering when our plans felt solid, when the gang was going to flee and be safe and Arthur and I were going to leave together. Before the bank. Before Guarma. "What I'm saying is, I don't want to go around in circles again. Next time we talk about this, it's gonna end in us leaving, okay?"

"Alright, beautiful. I'll… I'll start working on Dutch. If somehow I can convince him to use all that money we been saving to clear off for good," he trailed off, shaking his head. "I don't know how long it'll take."

"It'll take as long as it takes," I shook my head and smiled at him, brushing my thumb across his cheek bone. Then I kissed him, holding him close and tender like the treasure he was. 

-

A man I hadn't seen before walked into camp, guided by Charles, as well as Karen and Javier who had both been on guard duty. His hair was long and though I didn't know for sure, I wondered if it was one of the people from the Wapiti reservation that Charles and Arthur had been helping. My guess was solidified when Arthur – who was speaking with Dutch at the time – appeared to know him, and introduced them. They all spoke for a while, and my position across the other side of the camp meant I didn't hear a word. I was surprised that he'd come to our camp, and I wondered what had happened to make him do so.

Eventually Dutch made the first step towards the horses, and the man immediately followed. Charles and Arthur seemed reluctant to follow too, but they did. I frowned and sat upright, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, very gingerly lowering them to the ground so I could watch as they all mounted up and rode away from camp. 

I glanced around, wondering if anyone around had heard what their conversation was all about, or what they were heading out to do. A sickly sense of anxiety settled like a boulder in my stomach once again and I began to panic that I could never, ever watch Arthur leave camp again without feeling complete dread. I'd come close to losing him too many times and now I'd been trained to expect the worst. 

With a groan I pushed myself to my feet, grabbing the cane that Arthur had fashioned out of a big stick he'd found so that I could start moving around. I could walk okay, I just had to move carefully as to not tug on the delicate, healing skin around my knee, the cane was there to keep my balance. I walked my way over to the stew pot, figuring that eating something might settle me a bit, I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and even then I'd just had some biscuits.

I served myself up a bowl of stew and hobbled my way over to the campfire, sitting down on one of the storage crates and dropping my cane down on the ground beside me. I tucked into my food, relieved to have a warm meal to pull my focus to. I saw Mary-Beth getting herself some food too, and she started heading towards me, sitting down on a nearby log. 

"It's good to see you up and about," she commented. 

"Yeah, I couldn't stay flat on my back forever, my leg ain't really hurting no more. Miss Grimshaw said as long as I'm careful with it, it'll do me good to be more mobile," I replied, nodding before blowing on a steaming forkful of meat and vegetables and popping it into my mouth. 

"That's good, it can't be nice when you're always so eager to keep yourself busy," she laughed a little, and I met her eyes. 

"Thanks for the books, by the way. I finished the one with the field of lavender, the French woman," I murmured, looking towards the tent as if I could see the book and read the title from there.

" _The Castle in the Field of Lavender,_ " Mary-Beth nodded. "Complete nonsense, isn't it? But I love it nonetheless," she giggled. 

"I can certainly agree that it's nonsense," I chuckled, "but it provided a much needed distraction. I liked it," I grinned. 

"How're you feeling?" She asked.

"I'm– I'm okay. Yeah, been a tough time lately, ain't it? But I'm sure things will start looking up now we're in a new camp, we're all together," I said with a nod. 

"You think so?" She questioned, a frank look of doubt on her face. 

"You _don't_ think so?" I countered.

"I don't really know what to think," she exclaimed, shaking her head regretfully.

"No, I guess I don't either," I sighed, stirring through my stew. 

"All I know is I hate it here, this place gives me the creeps," she made a show of shuddering, then took a bite of food, swallowing before continuing, "worse than the swamp."

"We're safe. All these people here, looking out for each other, it might be creepy here but nothing's gonna happen," I tried to reassure her, and she nodded. "Do you know what all that was about; with that feller who came to camp just now?"

"Karen said his name was Eagle Flies," she said, and I nodded in recognition, "something about some horses being stolen. I figured the boys went to help get them back."

"Stolen horses," I mused thoughtfully, "doesn't sound like something Dutch would be too concerned about with all that's going on," I pondered.

"Hmm, now you mention it," she nodded slowly, "well, I don't know. Maybe there's money to be made, I don't see why Dutch would risk everything if it weren't worth it. Not with the Pinkertons turning up all the time."

I was quiet for a moment, eating my food and considering my next words. When I settled on them, I glanced around before leaning forwards a bit. 

"Uh, Mary-Beth," I said under my breath, and she caught my tone and scooted closer to me, her eyes widening with a cute kind of intrigue at the secrecy. "Do you think that… that Dutch maybe ain't been using the best judgement as of late?"

"What d'you mean?" She asked, her eyes narrowed and her head shaking in confusion. 

"Well," I began, my tone light and careful, "he trusted Bronte with that trolley station tip, when that was a set up he _killed_ him and then expected everything to be okay when he went and robbed the bank? I don't know, I thought he was meant to be real smart."

"Oh, I don't know what to say. I never really thought about it that way before," she sighed softly, frowning to herself. 

"You haven't? Perhaps it's just me being paranoid, then," I dismissed, lessening my conviction, trying to brush it off as a passing thought. I didn't want anything blown out of proportion. 

"No, I don't think so. Perhaps you're right. When you put it like that, it don't sound all that smart, why'd you think he'd take those risks without thinking of the consequences?" She questioned. 

"Well, that's it. I don't know. That's why I wanted to ask you, you've been here much longer, I just wondered if you'd noticed a change or if he's always been like this," I shrugged. 

"No, he hasn't. The gang has changed a lot in the last few months, doing things that we wouldn't ordinarily do. I put it down to heavier pressure from all of our enemies but sometimes I wonder if we're going too far, truth be told. As soon as Jack got dragged into our problems, I stopped feeling safe," she admitted to me, her voice tiny and barely audible. "But I never blamed anyone in particular for it, 'specially not Dutch."

I shook my head. "I ain't suggesting that you should. I'm just thinking out loud. I'm pretty scared."

"You're scared? Even with Arthur looking out for you?" Her brows raised softly and with concern.

"It's… it's Arthur I'm scared for. I'm a woman. I ain't really had to deal with the things he has in this gang, nobody's forcing me to go out and shoot Pinkertons and rob banks! I've only gotta worry about my safety when they find our camp. But he–" I stopped, shaking my head and sighing. "Every time he goes out since Guarma, I feel sick."

"Oh, I see…" she said solemnly, looking down. "And I guess you're worried, what with Dutch's recent ideas, that Arthur's gonna get hurt because of him."

"I am," I nodded. 

Mary-Beth pressed her lips together and tilted her head, considering her response carefully. "Dutch has always been something of a father to folks. Some more than others. But Arthur has been with him the longest, you know that. I don't think Dutch would let any harm come to him, not on purpose."

"Mm," I made a quiet sound, finishing off my food to avoid responding. I didn't believe her. Not that she was lying, she wouldn't be remiss for thinking that way. But ever since he was captured by the O'Driscolls, I really struggled to fall into such naive, blind trust of Dutch Van Der Linde. 

"Have you thought about leaving?" She asked, her tone high pitched and girlish and curious, like the question was more insignificant than it actually was. "Seriously, I mean. Not just a spur of the moment thing, like what Arthur was saying when your leg got burned," she clarified, and I was reminded of all the people who'd heard that conversation.

Even so, I struggled to form a response. 

" _I_ have," I finally answered, emphasising the 'I' to avoid incriminating Arthur. I wanted only to speak for myself. 

"Between me and you… so have I," she replied, shocking me. I gazed at her with wide eyes as she stared into the fire. "When I found out Molly had gone, I started wondering if the gang would fall apart, then I panicked, thinking about what I'd do if it did. Sometimes I think I should jump ship before I go down with it," she revealed, and her words rang in my ears with such clarity I wanted to capture the moment and show it to Arthur, because it made such sense the way she said it. But I'd promised him I wouldn't put pressure on him to get out while he felt his work was not yet done. 

"I understand," I nodded. "And I wouldn't judge you if you did. Not even a little," I whispered.

"Really?" She met my eyes. 

"Same reason I didn't judge Molly. I think if someone knows they can find happiness elsewhere, they should seek it without judgement. Especially with how things are right now, we're all scared for our lives."

"I spoke to Kieran about it," she told me. "I don't know how he feels about it but I… I like him. A great deal. Sometimes I daydream about how life could be, and it makes me happier than I ever am when I'm living outside of my head, in the real world. Do you know what I mean?"

"More than I care to admit," I nodded. 

"Kieran and I have some… shared feelings, I s'pose you'd say. But we don't make a spectacle of it, we're very discreet," she said, and I smiled a little, seeing myself in her. She thought she was telling me something I didn't know, when everyone was aware at least on some level that something had blossomed between the two. Just like Arthur and me in the beginning. I didn't burst her bubble though.

"Are you, uh, officially involved? Like, say, me and Arthur?"

"Don't make me kiss and tell," she giggled, a grin spreading across her face. 

"So you've kissed him?" I grinned, teasing her. 

"I might have," she answered coquettishly, lifting a shoulder and peering over it at me.

"Considering the kind of novels you read and the way you spoke to me about Arthur, I would've thought you'd be more chatty about such a thing!"

"Well, it's different when it's yourself, ain't it?"

"Now you see why I was so embarrassed," I chuckled, shaking my head. "Don't worry, I'll have mercy on you."

"I appreciate it," she laughed, "anyway, I didn't bring him up to gush about it… I was just saying, if I had my way, if my dreams could come true, he and I would leave together, and we'd puzzle together as normal a life as we could," she sighed. 

"That's a sentiment I certainly share," I nodded. "Well, good luck to you, Mary-Beth."

"And to you," she returned, wearing a warm smile and rosy cheeks. "Let me take your bowl," she offered, getting up to wash her own. 

"Thank you," I said as I handed it over, and watched as she left. I glanced at the fire for a while, watching the glowing embers rising. It never had the same impact in the daylight as it did at night time, always felt different. 

I reached into the top of my shirt, retrieving the locket that hadn't left my neck since it was put there. I held it away as far as the chain would allow and popped it open, looking at the crudely cut out little photograph of Arthur, wondering what he was doing right that moment. I prayed the situation with the horses was a simple problem to resolve, and he would return to me so that I could see him sit down by this very fire with a warm bowl of stew, allowing himself the small luxuries that I was able to have. 

But I didn't see him for a while after he left. After getting back the horses for the Wapiti people, Dutch and Charles had returned without him after nightfall. I was told that he was camping out somewhere away from the main camp, he had to meet with Bill and Micah in the morning for another job and he had someone to see in Annesburg, but there were no more details than that. I was disappointed, of course. It wasn't out of the ordinary for Arthur to spend many nights away from camp, the only reason he spent most nights in camp now was because of me, he told me he preferred getting to bed down with me over being out in the middle of nowhere. But I had to remind myself that he had important things to do and he wouldn't stay away just for the sake of it, I needed to hush down my selfishness and allow him to do what he needed to do. It was a theme cropping up all too often, and I had to battle myself on it. I would not become his ball and chain.


	54. Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Times are tough right now, aren’t they, folks? We all deserve a bit of fun smut to distract us for a while. So yeah, this chapter isn’t entirely smut, but its mostly… Specific tags: semi-public, oral, first-times
> 
> Enjoy! x

The next time I saw Arthur was after a couple of days, and he had just got back to camp and was trimming his beard. I hadn't seen him arrive since I was busy chopping vegetables, thankfully my leg was healed enough to stand on comfortably and I was taking advantage of my returning mobility by helping out. I still needed a cane to walk to give me that extra sense of stability, it was more because I was scared of tripping and landing on my wounds than an actual necessity. 

I approached Arthur when I was done with the vegetables and Pearson no longer required my help. 

"Hi stranger," I said, sidling up to him. I made him jump a bit by accident, and he turned to look at me.

"Oh, hey, it's nice to see you moving about, that leg's getting better," he commented, "I'm sorry I ain't been back in a couple days, I had stuff to do over in Annesburg and I didn't wanna keep riding back and forth, not through Murfree country," he explained.

"Oh, of course, can't be mad at you taking care of yourself. You bumped into any since we've been staying here?" I asked. He paused for a moment. 

"Yes," he said, but offered no elaboration. I didn't prod. "I'm heading down to the river for a bath before I leave you again," he said, his tone lightening up as he changed the subject. 

"What you gotta do next?" I questioned. He brushed his fingers over his chin, dusting away stray clippings of hair. 

"I gotta meet Sadie and Dutch in Saint Denis," he told me, putting down his scissors. _Saint Denis!_ His insistence on tempting fate by going back there again boggled my mind until he told me his reasons. "Colm's being hanged."

"Colm O'Driscoll?" I balked. Arthur nodded. "Oh, my. And you're going there to watch?"

"I'm going there to make damn sure it happens. This ain't the first time he's been dangled off a rope, somehow his boys always manage to get him out of there. This time, he ain't getting away." 

"I'd love to come watch," I told him. Oh, to see the man who'd caused Arthur so much pain and caused the gang so much trouble swinging from the gallows, to hear his neck snap as the floor opened up, to see the colour drain from his face and the motion cease in his body… 

"You wouldn't," Arthur snorted, knowing me far too well. 

"The idea of it appeals, but right, I've never been able to watch that kind of thing," I admitted with a chuckle. Every time I happened to be passing a public hanging, I'd look the other way as soon as the lever was pulled. The truth is no matter what that sicko had done, watching death was not something I could take satisfaction in. 

"You coming to uh, keep watch while I bathe?" He asked after a moment, his voice quiet. 

"What am I watching, you?" I teased. 

"I ain't fussed where your eyes go as long as there ain't no nasty fellers passing by trying to start some funny business while I ain't got nowhere comfortable to holster a gun," he chuckled. 

I giggled and nodded, "I got your back."

"Come on then," he jerked his head and picked up a towel and some soap, and we headed down the slope towards the river. We walked down a ways until the area felt excluded enough, and Arthur held onto my arm the whole time to make sure I didn't slip. 

I sat down on a nearby rock as Arthur stripped bare, leaving his clothes with me. I smiled at his tan-deprived buttocks as he waded into the water, hissing at the cool temperature, his body tensing. 

"How's the water?" I asked sarcastically. 

"Let's just say there's a reason I ain't turning 'round yet," he said, his voice a little jerky as he shivered. I frowned. 

"Why's that?" I asked in genuine curiosity. He laughed aloud. 

"Never mind," he was quick to reply, then turned to face me once his lower half was submerged in the water.

"Hmm," I hummed aloud, still frowning.

"You'd be coming in with me if it weren't for the dressing on your leg," he said, changing the subject. 

"Why, do I stink?" I asked with a laugh. 

"No, not that I've noticed," he smirked at me. "But I could've just got used to it, you never know," he teased. 

"Don't even joke about it, that might be true." 

"If it is, we all reek. Don't worry about it," he shrugged in amusement, then dipped down under the water and scrubbed at his hair, rising up and shaking a spray of water in all directions. He lifted his hands, "throw the soap?" 

I tossed it, watching it plop into the water a short distance from his outstretched hands. He sighed and crouched, reaching around underwater for it, trying to grab it before the current took it away.

"Sorry, I never said I could throw," I called. 

"You can shoot an arrow straighter than I can and yet you can't throw a bar of soap?" He questioned. I smiled at him and shrugged. He managed to find it, and scrubbed the thing over his chest and under his armpits. 

"So what have you been doing while you've been out?" I asked. He blew out a stream of air through pursed lips and met my eyes. 

"A couple of jobs. I helped get those stolen horses back for Eagle Flies, then yesterday I went along with Bill to Van Horn," he told me, then dropped his gaze down and started washing his legs, "stagecoach thing. Explosives. Nothing good or exciting, I assure you."

"Charles said you met someone in Annesburg," I said. He hummed and nodded. 

"I saw someone I recognised when I took that girl home. Went to check it out," he said, his expression a little tense, "Mrs. Downes. Her husband owed us money, died before I could collect it. This was months ago. She paid off the last of the debt and now she's– well, she's doing things she shouldn't have to be doing just to get by." 

Arthur was ashamed, I could see it on his face. 

"I've tried to offer her some help but she ain't ever gonna forgive me, I know that," he added, and I nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry, you can't change other people's feelings," I said softly, and he nodded. 

"I don't… necessarily want her forgiveness. I just wanted to do something good for her, maybe help her get out of where she is– ain't a nice place for a lady and her son," he said, then looked a little nervous to say the next thing, "I, uh, I gave her some money. Not too much, just…" he trailed off. 

"That was kind," I told him, and he stared at me for some time. I frowned a bit. 

He recognised my confusion and cleared his throat. "Was worried you might be a little upset that I gave her money when I should be saving for you an' me." 

"I said I'd let you do what you gotta do. This included. I ain't mad, Arthur, money ain't anything I care about," I shrugged my shoulders and he watched me for a while before relaxing. 

"You're a good lady, a real good one. I don't deserve–"

"Don't start," I rolled my eyes and smirked in amusement, cutting him off before he could go there. I fought the grin trying to spread across my face and looked down to tweak the buttons on Arthur's shirt, smoothing my fingers over the fabric.

"Hey," he said, "look at me."

I did as he asked, meeting his eyes. 

"Once this is over you and me are gonna have the rest of our lives together," he told me. "We just gotta stop ourselves getting impatient."

"The rest of our lives," I repeated, letting the grin take over. "I hope I get to see you become an old, old man."

"What'chu on about? I am an old man," he gestured to his broad chest and soft yet toned stomach with his muscular arms and I cocked a brow at him. 

"You ain't old. I mean Uncle-old," I said, "at the very least."

"I ain't too sprightly," he shook his head. "I'm not like Uncle just yet but I'm sure starting to feel my age."

"Christ, Arthur, how old are you, exactly?"

He had to think for a moment. "Thirty-six. I think," he shrugged one shoulder.

"Thirty-six. And you're talking like you're in your fifties," I shook my head at him. He snorted and looked away, stretching as he tried to scrub his back with the soap.

I admired the way his arms and chest worked with his movements, pressing my lips together to resist the indulgent smile that wanted to appear. I wondered if it was bad of me to enjoy watching him so much, the poor man was only trying to bathe.

"You sure don't look like an old man," I told him, my voice coming out lower and a damn sight more sultry than I intended. 

"Mm?" He hummed lightly, the corner of his mouth lifting. 

"You look… handsome."

"Why'd you hesitate before you said that?" He let out a breathy laugh, his hand moving under water, between his legs, looking indecent only because I'd chosen to see it that way once my mind had begun to turn down an inappropriate path.

"Because handsome don't feel like the right word. Handsome is when you're wearing a nice shirt and vest, and you've put a little pomade in your hair," I explained, tilting my head, pausing as he ducked under water briefly again to scrub at his face and hair. "But when you're all wet and your hair's messy… I sure like looking at it but it's a different kind of nice," I grinned. 

"That's pretty complicated," he teased me, beginning to emerge from the water, apparently satisfied that he was clean. "But I appreciate the sentiment." 

"You ain't gotta be shy," I told him playfully when he cupped his privates with his hands, not allowing me a single glimpse of his entire body.

"I'm not shy," he chuckled, but still didn't move his hands. I looked around, the area was completely void of passers by, there wasn't an easy path close by so I doubted anyone would ever see him. 

"It's just me," I reassured him, holding the towel towards him when he got close enough, swapping it for the soap. 

"That's my point. It ain't a modesty thing, it's a pride thing. I don't wanna put any pictures in your head," he laughed, scrubbing the towel over his body, always careful not to flash a glimpse. 

"I am so confused," I said slowly, shaking my head like an idiot. 

Arthur was flushed since I'd basically cornered him into explaining. "The water's real cold, princess. Some things... get a little smaller. You don't need to see nothing."

"I'm perfectly satisfied with the size of everything on your body, I couldn't possibly be disappointed by anything you could show me," I smirked. "Come a little closer." 

"Why?" He asked suspiciously. 

"I won't look. But maybe I could…" I trailed off, my eyes dropping to the towel. "I could warm you up a little."

"You being dirty, sweetheart?" His face was a mix of surprise and amusement. 

"I'm in the mood for it," I admitted. 

"Out here?" His voice raised in pitch.

"You opposed to that?" 

Arthur glanced around. "Not really," he said, scrubbing the towel under his arms, still keeping the bottom of it hanging down over his groin.

"Come here then," I purred, and he slowly closed the gap. He stood just in front of me, his knees close to mine. He watched me intensely as my hand slid under the edge of the towel, my fingertips walking like little legs up his inner thigh. 

I could tell he wasn't breathing, but he let out an audible hiss of breath when my hand wrapped around him. I looked up at him to see his eyes flutter closed momentarily as I began to gently play with him, brushing my hand back and forth, rubbing my thumb in a feather light dance over the tip. 

"What– what're we doing? You want to lie down with me, want me to take you out here?" He questioned, his voice shaking a touch. 

"I want to play around, try something," I told him. "You ever had a lady use her mouth to make you feel nice?"

"Fuck, only once," he breathed. 

"Did you like it?" 

"Yes," he nodded easily and I smiled. 

"I liked it when you did it to me," I whispered. 

"You want that now? I can– I'm real happy to, I like doin' it," he stammered out, his cock filling out in my hand, twitching upright, lengthening. 

"I'm not asking you to do anything, I just want to play, for now," I told him.

I brushed the towel aside, exposing him. He didn't stop me and I leaned forwards to his belly, pressing kisses to his warm, soft flesh, moving sideways under his chest, lingering at the shallow hollow beneath his rib cage. I breathed over him, tilting my head until my forehead pressed against his chest. I looked down at my hand as it moved over him, and I paused briefly to slick my palm with spit. Arthur moved the towel completely, draping it over his shoulders as he hummed out his first audible moan. 

"This nice?" I asked, returning my lips to his body, kissing down over his abdomen, the toned line down the centre towards his navel. He exhaled his confirmation without hesitation.

His abs flexed when I brushed over a sensitive, ticklish part of his belly and a low, sudden grunt sounded above me. I brought my free hand to his body, stroking it up over his chest, my palms feeling the firm peaks of his nipples before I slid my hand all the way down. It slipped between his thighs, cupping and fondling him as my other hand picked up the pace over his shaft. My heart began to pound, and I turned my eyes upwards to see him watching me closely. His hand brushed over my cheek, up to my temple and through my hair. I exhaled softly at his pleasant touch, closing my eyes and kissing down lower, beneath his navel, down to where his hair became thicker and more coarse until my hand knocked into my chin and I realised how close I was… 

"Jesus Christ," Arthur exhaled almost inaudibly, his fingers burying themselves in my hair, scratching lightly at the base of my skull. "I feel like I'm gonna cum before you even start, watching you's getting me so worked up," he whispered. The corner of my lips lifted in satisfaction.

I loosened my hold on his cock, thumbed at the head and smeared the slick that gathered there as I slid my hand right down to the base. I watched as it twitched when the cool air met it, and heard Arthur's small, growl of a moan. I opened my mouth a little and tilted my head, leaning in to press a lingering open-mouthed kiss to the side of his cock, low down beside my hand. Arthur made a sound mighty close to a whimper and he rocked forwards on the balls of his feet momentarily before dropping back and letting out a stuttered breath. Warmth flooded and pounded between my legs and in my cheeks as I saw how aroused he was, how starved for the pleasure I could give him he was becoming. 

I kissed him again, and again, moving up his length towards the tip, where my lips lingered with the kiss. I turned my head to and fro, dragging my lips over the slick head and feeling his arousal coating my lips like rouge. Arthur released a series of high pitched _'ah's_ and I pulled back to look into his eyes as I made a show of licking my lips. I didn't know what to expect but the flavour that hit me was a mild one, just a little salty, and I resisted the instinct to make a content hum as if I'd just tried a new kind of food.

"Fuck, fuck," he whispered, licking his own lips and fidgeting on his feet. His cock twitched in my hand again, and a clear stringy bead oozed from the tip, dripping down before I could attempt to catch it with my tongue. 

"Oh my God," I breathed, my whole body tingling with intense, unignorable arousal.

I pushed forward, drawing my tongue over his cock, right down to my hand before tilting my head and retreating right back up to the tip. I encircled my lips around the end of it, immediately gaining a gasp and a jolt of Arthur's hips. I let out a sultry laugh at his reaction and he wailed out like he was going to cry. I'd never seen him like it before, not so intensely. 

"Please," he begged, his voice low and husky. Please? Please what? I thought to myself, sliding my lips down a little more. "Ah, fuck, that's it, princess. Good girl. How much can you– you're going real far, shit," he commented as I slowly took more of him into my mouth, being careful to keep my teeth away. 

I soon felt like I'd start to retch if I went any further and I froze, how on earth was I meant to tend to his entire cock? Was I even doing it right? It was supposed to go this far into my mouth, wasn't it? I was only assuming. I began to feel nervous, heart rate galloping again. I slid my lips back over the head, and he groaned when the tight ring of my mouth slid back and forth over the most sensitive part of him, and my hand began to stroke the rest of him. I sucked a little as I pulled back and Arthur's moan was loud and unbridled, so I did it a few more times, producing more and more intense reactions until I lifted my eyes to meet his, and suddenly the hand on my head pulled me off. 

He gasped, tensed, cock pulsating. 

"S-sorry, I nearly came and I didn't– fuck, it feels so good I don't want it to be over yet," he told me, and I let the relief slow my heart, for a moment I feared I'd done something wrong. "Okay… okay I'm good," he told me after a moment and I returned to him, taking him back into my mouth and sliding down. 

I went a little further than before, trying hard to relax so that I wouldn't gag. It was hard, my mouth watered profusely and I tried to swallow what I could before I started drooling all over the place like a mess. The act squeezed the muscles at the back of my mouth around him and Arthur's hips rocked forwards a bit as he growled out. I coughed as my gag reflex was triggered and I withdrew.

"Shit, princess, I never meant to do that. You alright?" He questioned, cupping my face and tilting my head up to look at him. I nodded licking my lips and looking into his eyes, watching them soften in concern before shifting into something more sultry and aroused at the sight of me. "Do you want to stop?" He asked, despite his clear enjoyment. 

"No, I like it. Just don't– try not to do that again. It'd be real embarrassing if I threw up," I laughed, out of breath. 

"I won't, I promise I'll have more control over myself," he whispered, stroking the sides of my head as I trailed my tongue around the head of his cock, then up and down the sides slowly, hearing his little hums and groans returning. "I'll warn you when I'm about to… I won't do it in your mouth," he told me. 

I hummed against the underside of his cock as I lifted it up, peeking up at him past his length. "I thought that was the idea of this," I murmured. 

"Not… not always. You don't have to," he said, shaking his head and looking down at me with glazed eyes.

"What if I want it?" I asked, tilting my head at him as I jerked him quickly, letting the head of his cock brush over my lips.

"Then you ain't gonna be waiting long, you keep talking like that," he shuddered, his eyes closing for a moment before opening again.

"I want to try," I whispered, flashing a sultry smile, "I always wondered what you tasted like."

"Oh fuck," he whined, breathing heavily. I wrapped my lips around him, chased my hand up and down his length with them, sucking on the draw back, using my other hand to play with his balls. "Ohh, I'm gonna cum," he sighed.

I moaned around him, spurred on. I was surprised at how much I was enjoying myself, how much gratification pleasuring him provided me with, my body throbbed and pulsed with pleasure and I felt so slick between my legs I must've soaked my drawers by then. 

"Oh baby, I love you, I love you so goddamn much," Arthur panted, his hand stroking back over my hair over and over, "I'm gonna– fuck, almost there. Almost– I'm cumming!" His voice was strangled as his cock started to throb and twitch inside my mouth. 

I felt a sudden flood of liquid, it hit the roof of my mouth and flowed down over my tongue, filling my mouth with a flavour far stronger than I'd tasted before, definitely salty, a little bitter. I swallowed it down as a knee-jerk reaction, mainly to get the foreign texture out of my mouth. My eyes closed in concentration as I drank him down with each throb and pump of his cock, until he was spent, just twitching rhythmically as his loud moans died down. I pumped my lips over him a few more times, wringing the last sparks and shudders from him before tonguing away any residual spend from his tip, opening my eyes to meet his.

"Jesus, fuck, princess," he sighed, sagging a little on his feet, swaying a bit.

I was breathless, staring up at him as my whole body buzzed with an indecent yet wonderful thrill. I was suddenly very shocked at myself, performing such an intimate and dirty act, and getting such a release from it that wasn't like an orgasm, but it was certainly _something._ I received a special kind of satisfaction and gratification when Arthur spilled into my mouth, riding waves of his own pleasure that I had brought him. 

Arthur recovered, panting as he bent down, tilting my head up and kissing me hard, his tongue probing enough for him to surely taste himself. He quickly dropped to his knees, dirtying himself up on the ground. As he kissed me his hands went to my skirt, lifting. I jolted and grabbed his hands to stop him. He must've forgotten about my current condition, I was bleeding, in no fit state to have such attention.

"No?" He questioned lightly, not needing to string together a whole question for us to communicate. I shook my head.

"I only wanted to do you," I whispered. 

He carefully placed his hands on my thighs and nuzzled his face into my neck, inhaling and kissing between words. "I'd like to _do you,_ " he returned, tone a low hum, "you don't want me to?"

"I'm satisfied," I whispered. "Besides, you know I can't," I added sheepishly. He seemed to remember, exhaling quietly.

"It's okay," he nodded, drawing back. "How was that?"

"What we just did?" I breathed, smiled. Arthur nodded. "I liked it."

"You did?"

"You seemed to enjoy it a lot, and that really does something for me," I admitted, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"I did enjoy it a whole lot, you're real good to me," he pecked my forehead.

"You're gonna need another bath, kneeling in the mud like that," I warned, and with a groan he pushed himself to his feet. He sighed as he dusted his hands over his knees, not at all shy about standing naked so close to me, especially in comparison to earlier on. 

I didn't think when I reached out and pressed my hand to his chest, stroking down and feeling his muscles, humming pleasantly to myself. 

"You sure you don't need taking care of?" He smirked, seeing my handsyness for exactly what it was. There was no denying I was aroused. Still, the impulsive cloud had passed and I wasn't going to lift my skirts for him, despite his apparent willingness.

"I'm sure," I grinned at him, letting him go and handing him his clothes an article at a time so he could get dressed. "We should be heading back anyway, that's a long bath you just had." 

Arthur hummed in agreement, flashing me a dirty smile. 

-

Arthur left to meet Sadie and Dutch after having a quick bite to eat; a lump of pork he cooked over the fire himself on the end of his knife. He kissed me goodbye by the horses and I wished him luck, telling him to give Colm a wave goodbye from me. I spent the remainder of my day doing chores and trying not to scratch at my leg where it had entered the itching phase of the healing process; at least it no longer hurt.

I was taking a break with a cup of water and a little bit of chocolate Pearson had snuck me from the back of his wagon, I was discreet in eating it. There was not enough to share and it'd been so long since I'd eaten chocolate, I decided to be a bit selfish. So when I saw Tilly approaching, I shoved the last tiny piece into my mouth, screwing up the wrapper and pocketing it. 

"Why's it look like I've caught you doing something you shouldn't?" She smiled playfully at me as she got closer.

"Cause I'm sitting down doing nothing, don't you feel bad whenever you take a break?"

"Not at all," she huffed a laugh. She stretched out her arm, handing a letter to me. "This came for Arthur. Would you give it to him?"

"Course," I said, looking at the handwriting on the front of the letter. I knew who it was from.

"I think it's from Mary," she said with a bit of an unimpressed tone. I nodded in agreement. "God knows what it is this time."

"I'm a little shocked. When we saw her last things seemed to get wrapped up, Arthur told her how it was," I hummed, and Tilly sighed.

"Feels like there's something inside it," she noted. There was a hard lump between the layers of paper, and a squeeze had me recognising the shape. My eyes widened a bit.

"I think she got the message," I murmured, "it's a ring."

"Oh," Tilly's brows raised, "ouch. She didn't have to send it back, that seems a little… why make a thing of it?"

"I don't know," I shook my head, "maybe she thinks Arthur could do with the money," I snorted.

"Mm, maybe," she said, her tone low. "With a stroke of luck, that'll be the last he hears from her," she patted my shoulder, and with a sigh I slipped the letter into the pocket of my jacket. Tilly went to leave but I called after her. 

"Hey, Tilly. You mind sitting for a second?" 

She hesitated, only out of surprise, then turned back and took the seat next to me. "Sure, what's up?"

"Nothing, really, I just– how're you feeling?"

"Me? Well, you know, I'm just trying to get through each day just like everyone else. This place is like purgatory, though. I'm not liking it one bit," she told me with a heavy sigh, shaking her head and looking out across the camp.

"What do you think's gonna happen?"

"I think Dutch will figure it out. He always does."

"You think he still can? My understanding is this is far worse than it's ever been for the gang," I tentatively suggested, trying to figure out how much confidence she had in him after all that happened.

"I think he'll do his best, and he's never let us down before. He came back to us after Guarma, didn't he? He and the boys could've not looked back, sailed on off to some other country where the law wouldn't know nothing about 'em," she pointed out and I bobbed my head in consideration. Dutch, Micah, Bill… possibly Javier, I could see doing that if things were dire enough. But Arthur? Even if I didn't exist, I doubted he would leave the gang so stranded.

"I suppose so," I said anyway. "You really believe in Dutch, don't you?"

"Right now, I have to," she said, almost sadly. I rubbed my hand up and down her arm briefly. "What about you; how're you feeling?"

"I'm alright," I nodded, "I reckon I'll be fine as long as Arthur keeps on coming back. This is all way over my head, way more than I expected when I joined. But I'm sticking with it, just thinking of what's important."

"And what about Dutch? Do you trust him?" She asked. I was quiet for a moment, my eyes locked with hers for a few long seconds. 

"Well, it's like you said. He'll do his best. The rest of us? We'll just… follow," I said quietly. Tilly's lips parted, but she closed them again and nodded slowly. 

"Anyway, I better get back to my chores," she told me, putting on a small smile. I nodded and watched as she got up and headed away, glancing over her shoulder at me once. 

I sighed and dropped my head into my palms.


	55. Choke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader has a word with Dutch. Couple of warnings for this one: one use of a racial slur, and some violence.

Dutch seemed pleased when he returned from Saint Denis with Sadie, rolling in on a wagon dressed up like a lawman. I was stunned to see Sadie in a fancy, floofy dress and a big hat, though it was spattered with blood. They climbed down and Sadie immediately strutted off to get changed, her face twisted with a lingering vengeful look, as Dutch spread his arms wide and puffed himself up to get everyone's attention. 

"It's done. Colm O'Driscoll is dead and gone. This is it, people, this is our first real step towards freedom, we just struck one huge thing off the list," he called out, strolling leisurely through the camp towards his tent. "We just gotta make one big bang and then we're gone."

I watched him from my spot on Arthur's bed, hearing Micah's deviant, low titter of a laugh. 

"What'd I tell you, boss? This ain't nothing we can't get away from, with our strongest boys we'll be on our way," he said, swinging back on a chair with his feet propped up on the table. 

"I can taste it, Mr. Bell. Ain't it a beautiful thing?" Dutch responded, then slipped away into the privacy of his tent. Micah glanced at me then, catching my eye for a moment, mouth curling into a smile. I rose to my feet and made my way over to the back of the women's wagon where Sadie was just finishing getting changed, smoothing out her shirt where it was tucked into her pants.

"Hey Sadie, how'd it go?" I asked. 

"It got bloody. But Colm's dead, and whatever lackeys he brought with him, they're dead too," she told me bluntly. "Finally. I've been waiting for the day that those bastards paid for what they did to my husband." 

"Good. I hope it hurt," I said quietly, looking towards the ground at the mention of her husband. I never knew how to act. 

"You should've seen the look on his face when he realised he weren't getting away, pretty sure he shit himself _before_ they pulled the lever," she gave a mean, scratchy laugh and I had to smile at her getting to see some justice finally delivered. "Bastard deserves everything he gets, what he did to me."

"Couldn't agree more. And I'm glad he's gone, maybe now we'll have some damn breathing space," I sighed. 

"Maybe. But I got a word of warning for ya', Dutch got a little pissed off when we was in the bar before we watched Colm swing," she began, picking up her gun belt and buckling it around her waist, retrieving her pistol and sitting down to clean it, "Arthur said some things and Dutch weren't happy."

I frowned and sat down next to her. "What was said, exactly?"

"Arthur asked what the grand plan was, and when he didn't exactly jump for joy at Dutch's answer, his _loyalty_ was called into question. I tried to step in and tell them to buck up, but they butted heads. Well, as much as Arthur'd dare to butt heads with Dutch, said just 'cause he's thinking about the others, don't mean he's disloyal to him. Dutch weren't having it though," Sadie explained, digging her nail into the nooks and crannies of her gun with the cloth. "He weren't particularly kind to Arthur."

I narrowed my eyes, my jaw clenching.

"Dutch said apparently he knows that you and him are talking 'bout leaving," she met my eyes at that, and my chest squeezed uncomfortably. "Arthur looked like he was about to throw up. In the end he just dropped it, and we had to go to the gallows anyway and nothin' more was said about it."

"And where's Arthur now?"

"Ain't sure. We split up and went separate ways after the chaos, I imagine he'll be back later," she told me, and I nodded, rising to my feet. 

"Excuse me," I said, and turned to leave.

I was half way towards Dutch's tent when I realised I'd left my cane behind, I didn't stop though. I very nearly ripped back the canvas and barged in, but the possibility that he could be undressed in there halted me, and instead I stopped just shy of the tent and took a breath. 

"Dutch? May I come in?" I called out once I'd gathered myself. There was a pause, then movement, and the canvas peeled back. Dutch looked a little confused, of course, I'd never really gone out of my way to speak to him in all the months I'd been around. "I'd like to speak with you."

"Of course," he said, his tone jumping up with a politeness that unnerved me. 

He stepped aside and let me enter. I'd never really been inside his tent. They were far more luxurious lodgings than the rest of the camp had, that was for sure, with animal furs on the floor and everything. Dutch gestured for me to take a seat on the bed, and he stood before me with his arms crossed. I sat up straight, my hands clasped in my lap. 

"I want Arthur to leave with me," I said, coming right out with it. "He knows this, and I ain't gonna try and hide it from anyone."

"Is that so?" His brows jumped up. I kept my eyes focused steadily on his.

"Yes."

"And why exactly are you telling me this, may I ask?"

"I wanna make it clear that it's me that wants it, it's me who's asking Arthur to come away with me. And Arthur is… he cares a lot about this gang. He ain't going anywhere," I explained to him, my voice as strong as I could manage despite the fact I was so nervous my hands shook.

"Well, my dear, if you don't wanna be in this gang anymore, you know where the figurative door is. Nobody's stopping you," he cocked a brow, crossing his arms.

"It ain't that. It's not that I want to leave the gang. I just– I want Arthur to be safe. And I want to be with him, where we can try and be free from all those people that're after him," I clarified, shaking my head, "but he ain't prepared to leave all of you, he's known you longer and I ain't gonna force him to choose between us. So I'm staying."

"I still don't know why this has anything to do with me. It sounds like you and Arthur have discussed this at length just between the two of you and have come to a compromise, what do you expect me to do with this information, Miss?" His face was hard but his tone was easy and polite. He had a way of doing that…

"Because I believe you might begin to question Arthur. You heard him the night of my injuries, he mentioned us leaving, but I know for sure he was only saying that in the moment. He didn't really mean it, and I know this because I called him out and asked him to stick to his words. He couldn't," in a way I felt guilty for painting Arthur out as being against leaving with me. It wasn't entirely true, but Dutch needed to hear it. "I just have to tell you this, the truth, so that Arthur ain't punished for my sake," I added.

"You think I'd punish him for wanting to leave?"

"Yes, actually, I do. I think you'd resent him, after all you've done for him," I admitted, attempting to stroke his ego just a bit; I thought it'd help my case, "and I ain't here to tell you whether you should or shouldn't be mad at something like that. I'm here to tell you that Arthur ain't thinking like you think he is. Lord knows I wish he was, but I ain't that lucky."

"But my guess is you're gonna keep on working on him, try and get him to _see sense?_ " He tilted his head, his brow cocking again.

I lifted my shoulders lightly. "I will keep on telling him what I want and hope that someday he'll want it too."

"Well, I'm sorry, Miss, but from where I'm standing, if what you're telling me is true, maybe Arthur ain't all that committed to you. Is it in your best interests to put yourself in the firing line for a man who won't commit to you, one-hundred percent?" He proposed, his head tilting down, eyes peering up through his lashes, partially obscured by the brim of the hat he wore. "Maybe you should… cut your losses and get out of here before it's too late for you, all these Pinkertons about. You've already been injured. Perhaps you gotta start thinking about what's best for _you."_

"Like Molly did?" I don't know why I said it. I don't know what possessed me, but it gave Dutch pause, his expression flinching to mild surprise before being concealed behind indifference.

"Yes, like Molly did," he responded after some time, voice low and level. "You should know that a leopard don't change its spots, no matter how pretty a lady comes along. This wouldn't be the first time Arthur's chosen the gang over a woman, you likely won't be an exception, and I just don't wanna see a sweet thing like you get hurt," the treacle in his tone made me nauseous, but I forced a smile.

"I appreciate the concern. But I'm not going anywhere, Arthur might not be leaving the gang for me but I'll wait for him, even if that means I'm waiting the rest of our lives," I told him. "Because I love him, and I don't care where we are as long as we're together."

"Oh, that's sweet. I usually like a little naivety in a girl, though it does so often border on wilful ignorance," he said.

"So I'm ignorant?"

"I never said that," he shook his head innocently, brows curving up, "but perhaps you're beatin' a dead horse, so to speak."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you're in love with him… and he loves you, I ain't got much doubt about that. I know just what a fool that man can be when he's taken by a woman, after all I was there when he was getting pulled in two directions by Mrs. Linton. He loved Mary, too. But Arthur never could leave this gang then, just like he can't now," he said to me, eyes boring into me, I'd been staring at his face so long in the muted light of the tent that his face seemed to start to warp and twist into something ugly and unsettling.

"So you really think I should leave and not look back because Arthur ain't never gonna come away with me?" I kept my expression neutral and my tone flat, trying not to give away anything about how I was feeling.

"I think that might serve you better in the long run, but that's just my advice. Take it or leave it."

"And you'd tell me that, even after you said yourself that you don't doubt Arthur loves me, you'd hurt him like that?"

"It wouldn't be me doing the hurting, my dear, I ain't got nothing to do with yours and his relationship, this is all up to you," he chuckled, shaking his head. "You came in here wanting to speak to me, and I just gave my advice."

"Well, wanting to speak with you and asking for your advice are two different things. I just came in here to tell you not to treat Arthur like dirt because of me."

"Hm, right you are. Well, unsolicited as it may be, my advice was given. You've worked hard for this gang, it'd be a real shame for you to throw your life away, risk it because of a romance that you can find with any old feller, ones that don't have to run away from anything for you. I love Arthur, I do, but the man is the furthest thing from a good suitor," he laughed and shook his head.

I was quiet for a moment, letting his words sink in. Then I took a breath and rose to my feet.

"Well, thank you for your time."

"My pleasure, why I do believe this is the first real conversation you and I have ever had. If you choose to stick around, I'd be remiss if we didn't do this more often," he chuckled, his overly proper and friendly manner wearing thin.

"I'll leave you to whatever you were doing, take care, now," I nodded to him before letting myself out of the tent, taking a cooling breath once I was out in the open again and away from his suffocating presence. There was something about Dutch that made it hard to relax and breathe, he dominated any space just by existing, took up too much room. I didn't like it at all.

"Workin' on Dutch, now, are we? You like the fellers, don't you?" Micah sniggered from his spot at the table by Dutch's tent. 

"Leave her alone, Micah," Javier sighed from a ways behind him, taking a drink of water from one of our drinking barrels. I stopped dead and levelled my gaze to Micah.

"What? She's already screwing one of 'em, and she's getting mighty close to the likes of Marston and that darkie, always fluttering her lashes at the lot of them," he continued anyway, and I felt Javier looking at me. "Dutch even got a glimpse at Shady Belle. Remember that, sweetheart? Yeah, he told me about that."

I walked towards him, sitting down on the chair opposite. I kept my eyes so focused on his, to the point that he started looking uncomfortable. He glanced away for a second, then back at me. He almost looked confused.

"Keep going. Tell me more about myself, what else I been doing?" I asked. 

Micah's mouth hung open just so, his brow furrowed a bit. 

"So, I'm fucking Arthur," I counted it off on my finger, "flirting with John and– I'm sorry, who else was it?"

"Charles, I think he meant," Javier answered for him. 

"Charles. Course, you didn't use his name. Anyway, Dutch saw me at Shady Belle, sure, but what was I doing?"

"You were prancing around on top of Morgan like a whore," Micah spat venomously. 

"Like a _whore?_ So, I looked experienced, at least. That's flattering," I nodded, and Javier snorted. "What else then?"

Micah hesitated. 

"Sneaking into Dutch's tent," Javier added, and I glanced up to see him grinning, enjoying whatever I was doing… I wasn't really sure what that was but it was happening with a flurry of adrenaline and the urge to wind Micah up.

"Oh yeah, trying my luck with him," I nodded, "thank you, Mr. Escuella, Mr. Bell seems to have forgotten his tongue."

"Then there was you being a little cock tease with me," Micah finally said, attempting to flip it to his gain.

"Cock tease? But according to you I'm dishing it out left and right, I ain't one for teasing," I frowned comically. "Why'd it be any different with you Mr. Bell? Surely I should be throwing myself at you like I do with everyone else."

I raised my brows at him expectantly but he kept his mouth shut.

"No, it's 'cause that was all in your head. Truth is I wouldn't touch you with a barge-pole if your limp dick was the last damn thing on Earth and my life depended on sucking it for sustenance, you're _disgusting_ ," I hissed through gritted teeth, letting a fair amount of pent up anger out at him as I rose to my feet and leaned over the table towards him. I heard Javier choke at my foul language.

The next thing I knew, my hair was being yanked; Micah's hand wrapped around the braid that hung forwards as I leaned, dragging me down to his level. I cried out in shock and pain.

"Someone ought to teach you some goddamn manners you _nasty_ little girl," he growled, his face far closer than I ever wanted it. A surge of adrenaline sent my hand up to his neck where I grappled and squeezed whatever I could get purchase on, doing whatever came naturally to get him to let go of me.

"Don't you ever fucking touch me!" I screamed, wrenching my head back out of his loosened grip, shoving him back into his chair by his throat. 

"Woah, woah! Jesus Christ!" Javier was there, a hand on my shoulder, shoving me back, one on Micah's, keeping him in his chair as he choked and rubbed at his neck.

"Fucking psycho!" Micah's hoarse yell was my only evidence I hadn't done any real damage.

"You listening, shit head? You fucking touch me again and I won't let go next time," I spat, whirling around to storm off, slamming straight into someone coming up behind me. I stepped back and looked up to see Arthur's panicked, wide eyes, mouth hanging open. Shame washed through me.

"What's going on out here?" Dutch yelled from the parted flaps of his tent.

"Nothing! Just fucking leave me alone!" I yelled, storming off away from it all, my face burning. Arthur's hand tried to catch my wrist but I jerked it away, not wanting to be kept in that place any longer. I headed down the slope towards the river, the only place I could think to go. Half-way down I regretted not going to the horses, but I didn't even know if I could mount a horse with my leg. I wasn't even really supposed to be walking without support, but it was a bit late for that.

I marched down the edge of the river, my feet slamming down on the rocks below loudly. I stopped soon, the adrenaline wearing off and bringing pain to my attention. My leg throbbed with my quick pulse, but my scalp did too. He'd pulled _hard_ , way harder than I thought. I hobbled over to a rock and slumped down, taking in a shaky, stuttered breath as I released the ribbon that held my braid in, fingering the strands apart and shaking my hair loose. I pushed my fingers through my hair and rubbed at my tender scalp as more shaky breaths came, I felt like I couldn't quite pull a satisfactory breath, and I buried my head in my hands. I felt out of control, like my fingers were slipping from the situation and I couldn't quite grasp my own peace like I'd managed before. 

I was always just about able to keep my head, to go along with things and stop myself from lashing out and snapping at every new blow that came my way. But with Micah… I'd _strangled_ him. Even if it was only for a moment, I had my hand around his throat and I'd _squeezed_. And for what? He'd teased me about speaking to Dutch, it was mild, really. Sure, he'd pulled my hair but I'd provoked him, hadn't I? It was one bad decision after the other–

I was alone for only a few moments before inevitably the crunch of pebbles underfoot came close. 

"Please just don't look at me. I wanna be alone," I said. 

"I ain't sure if I can do that," it was Arthur, of course. "I'm not leaving you out here with a bad leg and no gun," he added, and I realised he was right. I hadn't equipped my holster that morning, I hadn't felt like wearing it most days while I was sitting around camp. 

"I don't wanna go back there," I whispered, hiding my face from him. 

"That's okay. I ain't gonna make you," he replied gently, the crunching of stones drawing nearer until I felt his hand scrubbing back and forth across the top of my shoulders. "What the hell happened?" 

I heard his breath as he crouched down to my level, his hand on my shoulder, clearly wanting me to look at him. 

"He yanked my hair, pulled me right up close to him," I breathed.

"Yeah I saw that part, I was on my way over there to knock a few more teeth loose. But you had it covered, didn't you?" He sounded amused, almost.

"Don't. I ain't proud," I shook my head. 

"What did he say?"

I paused. If I told him the complete truth I'd have to explain how I'd been to speak to Dutch. I didn't think Arthur would be that pleased about me interfering like I had. But I didn't want to lie or hide things from him…

"He was being a bastard because I was speaking to Dutch. He made some comments about how I'm getting all cozy with the men here… it weren't a big deal, I pushed him, it got out of hand," I sighed.

"What's that supposed to mean, getting all cozy?" He snorted humourlessly and I was relieved that he didn't question why I'd spoken to Dutch.

"Who knows? Apparently just speaking to a man means I'm sleeping with him, or trying to. You know how he is, he's speaking out of his ass and trying to wind me up. I'm ashamed to say he was successful."

"Don't be ashamed. It's been tough these few weeks, everyone's been lashing out. I don't blame you one bit," he said, rubbing at my shoulder soothingly. My heart squeezed and soared for him and I lifted my head, closing the space between us and hugging him tightly, pressing my face into his neck. 

"I don't know why I did it. I snapped. I don't wanna hurt no one, not even Micah, I can't believe I–" I stopped, breathing deep to stop myself from crying.

"You didn't hurt him, he's fine. Well enough to talk shit before I came after you," he assured me but it didn't really help.

"That was so _ugly_ of me, I should just rise above it and walk away. This ain't like me, you're right. About what you said before about seeing yourself change in this gang, maybe that's happening," I leaned back to look at him. He was lost for words, his brows curved in distress and his mouth hanging wordlessly open. "I think I just need a break. I've been there since we arrived. I ain't been out and away from everyone for some time now."

"You want me to get the horses? We can ride out– can you ride?"

"I think I'd be okay side-saddle."

"You can ride with me, then, we can set up a camp elsewhere. You want that?" He cupped my face, thumbs stroking the tops of my cheeks. I nodded my head. "Okay. I'll pack us some things and come get you. You'll be alright here for a couple minutes?" He glanced around as he spoke. I nodded my head.

"Are you sure? You don't have to drop everything for me." 

"I ain't got nothing to drop. And even if I did, it ain't no sacrifice spending time with you, you know that," he pressed a kiss to my forehead before getting up. "I'll be as quick as I can, princess." 

"Can we take Rayna? Been a while since she's been out," I caught him before he left. He smiled at me fondly and nodded, then carried on back towards camp. 

I wasn't waiting long, as he soon returned, walking up the path on the back of Rayna. I heaved myself up off the rock and gingerly headed over to him; he dismounted to help me, taking my arm and helping me up the craggy incline to the path where Rayna was waiting. He grabbed something from the saddlebag and handed it to me. My gun belt.

"Put that on, princess. I don't want you going 'round without it in these parts," he warned, and I nodded and fastened it around my hips, taking my revolver out momentarily to refamiliarise myself with the weight of it in my hand. 

"Okay, let's go," I said, and Arthur lifted me onto Rayna's back, then joined me.

"Anywhere in particular you wanna go?" He asked once we were mounted.

"Hmm, there's a real pretty place north from here, if we follow up the Kamassa river. Brandywine Drop, there's this waterfall there, apparently it's beautiful. Maybe we could camp there?" I suggested, and Arthur immediately began down the path.

"You camped there before?"

"No, I ain't even ever been there. My dad liked to fish up there, he told me about it, showed me all the places he went on a map. I had planned to go up there one day but I never got around to it."

"Well, there might be some predators up there. I ain't worried about that, I've camped in all sorts of places; I just remember how you was when we went on that hunting trip with Charles," he said. I chuckled, squeezing my arms around his midriff, leaning my cheek against his shoulder blade.

"I was okay once I was sleeping next to you," I reminded him, and he hummed softly in acknowledgement.

"Okay then, we'll check it out," he said, and we rode peacefully northward, following the babbling water of the Kamassa river as closely as the path would allow. 

"Sadie told me that Colm's gone," I said quietly, and felt Arthur nod. "How're you feeling?"

"It was a little messy. But it's done, and I'm glad about it. It was nice to see him swinging from a rope after what he did to me," he huffed. "My shoulder still don't feel totally right. Maybe it never will."

"It don't? You never said that," I lifted my head and gingerly rubbed at the shoulder in question.

"Feels pretty stiff, can't move it as much as I can the other. Still does most of what I want it to, but I'm reminded of it every time I lift my arms past a certain point. More of a nuisance than anything," he murmured. I silently kissed it, not knowing what to say. "But I lived, that's more than most people who pissed Colm O'Driscoll off can say."

"I'd say you're lucky, but I can't bring myself to," I whispered, sliding my hand around his front, slipping it between the open top few buttons of his shirt and union suit to press against his chest, to feel his heartbeat. "You've been through enough that it'd be in bad taste."

"I got you getting me through it. I don't say it enough but I can't tell you how much it helps having you, I don't know how I'd be feeling if I was alone," he said under his breath. "The way I was after Guarma, when I– when my emotions boiled over like that. If you weren't there I don't know who I'd turn to. No one's ever seen me like that."

I didn't know what to say again. I felt stupid, even a little bit rude not saying anything at all, but all the words that came to mind weren't enough. 

"I love you. And the thought of you is what's getting me through this; watching Dutch change into someone I barely recognise. Watching this gang become more and more strained, all this tension, like we're all moments away from a massive blow out. When I close up our tent and settle in with you for the night, those times with just you and me, it's calm. I… I need that. Right now it's all I've got," he said, just talking as if he was writing in his journal. He didn't need a response, I sensed that, but I wanted to give him one.

"There ain't a single moment I regret joining this gang. Even when my leg hurts and Micah's pushing my buttons, or the Pinkertons are firing bullets at us, I never, ever think about my life before I joined and long for it. You're worth everything we're put through. I'd stay no matter what. You're _worth it_ and more," I told him. "And you deserve all the love this world can give. You're precious, you really are, I don't care what the newspapers write or anything like that."

I snuggled closer, wrapping my arms around him as firmly as they'd allow, pulling him against my chest like I never wanted to let go; because I didn't. I longed to be like this always and every moment I was allowed to taste what it was like I drank it up with vigour. Arthur was precious. He was a treasure to me, something I wished I could keep safe though I knew it was out of my hands whenever he left for another job. My heart ached with dread when I thought about it because I'd never been so full of love for a single person. I never knew I could feel such a way. It was both beautiful and terrifying.


	56. Brandywine Drop

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and reader have some much needed respite away from the crumbling gang. We also meet a familiar face! Warning for some animal death/hunting-ish.

We set up a campsite with Arthur's tent at Brandywine Drop, a short distance away from the huge waterfall and as far from the train tracks and trail as possible. We were set up under the cover of a patch of trees with a clearing big enough for us to set up a little fire. It was evening time once we were settled, with Rayna chewing on some wild carrots I'd pulled up for her, and Arthur heating up some cans by the fire for us. It was a little late to find something to hunt for meat so it'd be a light and bland supper, but it didn't matter. I played with Rayna's mane while she ate, listening to the peaceful sounds around me; it was a wonderful place. The constant _shhh_ of the waterfall put me at ease, coupled with the familiar crackling licks of the fire and the sound of birds singing a final song before they found a place to roost for the night, it made the tension in my shoulders fall away as I stood there by my horse and my love. _This is how life is meant to be_ , I thought.

I suddenly remembered the letter in my pocket from that morning, and looked over my shoulder at Arthur. He was prodding at the contents of a can with a fork, trying to stir the congealed substance to heat it evenly. I reached inside my pocket and retrieved the letter, looking down at it for a moment before walking over to him. I held it out to him silently, and he glanced at it before meeting my eyes.

"This came for you this morning," I told him. He took the letter from me and looked at the writing on the front. I could tell by the slight shift in his eyes that he knew who it was from. "It feels like there's something inside," I added. 

Arthur tore open the letter and knocked it against his palm. I was correct in my guess that it was a ring, it fell into his hand and he stared at it for a while before unfolding the letter. He tilted it towards the fire to get some better light to read it with and I wandered away, back to Rayna, to give him some privacy. He didn't need me standing over him as he processed whatever she'd written.

I scratched Rayna under her chin and kissed her nose, whispering to her soft words of affection. She'd been neglected a little bit by myself over the past week or so, and she needed some love. I didn't want her thinking that Kieran was her new papa or something, considering the time he put in making sure that she and the other animals were happy. 

Barely a minute passed and I heard the sound of folding paper. I looked over my shoulder and Arthur was staring at the ring again, a mild frown on his face. He must've been hurting but I didn't know how to comfort him. How does one comfort a lover who is hurting over a previous one? It was an odd situation. 

"I don't really know the right customs when it comes to these things… but I feel like it'd be in bad taste to–" he began, then stopped and met my eyes. "She's giving me this back because she thinks it'll help her forget about me, I think," he clarified, holding the ring up to me. 

My heart did something funny when I saw him like he was; happening to be on one knee as he crouched by the fire, now showing me a ring. The mental leap I made made me ache with some kind of longing. I pushed it away, for the time being.

"She put in her letter that maybe I should give it to someone else. Maybe even you," he continued. "I feel that's a little… odd. Considering I bought it for her all those years back. But I guess… do you want it?" He asked, a slight shrug coming with his words. I couldn't help but laugh. 

"No," I breathed, shaking my head but grinning. I walked back over to him, bending over and cupping his face, tilting it so I could kiss him. "I don't want Mary's old ring. But thank you."

"I thought as much," he murmured, tucking the ring away in his satchel, "I thought I'd ask in case you thought it was pretty, or something, but it wouldn't be special," he shrugged. 

"Special?" I repeated, a little unsure of what he meant.

"It was her… you know I asked her to marry me," he said very quietly, looking away from me. I nodded even though he wouldn't see it. He took a breath and met my eyes again, "I plan on buying you a ring of your own when that happens," he said, his tone light and casual, yet making my entire body burst with tingles and adrenaline. 

" _When_ that happens?" I repeated, choking the words out. Arthur's face seemed to pale as he realised what he'd said. 

"If, when, I don't– you know what I– shit, I didn't mean anything by that. That was just a slip of the tongue. I just meant I… I wouldn't propose to someone with the same ring I did with someone else, it was just a general statement, I wasn't–" oh, he was panicking. I snickered and pressed my fingers to his mouth. 

"It's okay. I understand," I nodded. 

"I guess I… I love you and I can't imagine _not_ loving you, that just slipped out like it was a normal thing to say," he justified, his eyes comically wide. I shook my head in amusement and carefully lowered myself down to sit next to him on the ground. I wondered how I'd get up again but that was a problem for later.

"It's alright. I'm not gonna take that too seriously," I sighed, leaning into his side. "This is an odd situation and you were just trying to say the right thing."

"Perhaps I'll… I'll sell it," he shrugged his shoulders.

"Maybe you could give it to John?" I suggested. "Perhaps one day he and Abigail could have a use for it, you know?"

"You think?"

"Abigail loves him. They're working things out, it seems. Aren't they?"

"Yeah, they are," he nodded, sitting down properly on his backside and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. "Maybe you're right. If he's got any sense he'll marry that woman. He ain't ever gonna find someone else who'll put up with him," he snorted.

"I think that would be sweet, if you gave it to him. That way, someone gets to use the ring and it ain't odd… plus I get my own ring, when the time comes," I smirked mischievously. "I like sapphires, by the way."

"Sapphires," he chuckled breathily, "noted. You know, that bracelet Penelope gave to me was sapphires."

"It was?"

"I still got it, you want it?" He asked. I chuckled and shook my head.

"The money's more important," I said.

"Well, she said it would be worth some," he nodded.

"My mama had a beautiful necklace with a sapphire in it, had to sell it, though. I always begged her to wear it," I told him, fondly recalling it. "Was only allowed to once, I remember," I lifted one finger. 

"When was that?"

"My tenth birthday, we went to the park in Saint Denis, I was dressed up in my best frock. Mama said now that I was in double figures she needed to see if I was grown up enough to wear such a special necklace. I was so scared of losing it all day that I never asked to wear it again," I laughed, and Arthur chuckled too. "Couple years later we sold it, keeping a roof over our heads was more important, you know?" I added, and Arthur nodded. 

"I suppose, lookin' for silver linings and all, at least we ain't gotta worry about losing no roof, living how we do," he sighed. 

I nodded slowly. "And I think I prefer having no fixed abode. Don't know for sure why, but I like this," I gestured around us. "Always have. Much more now I ain't alone." 

Arthur scrubbed his hand up and down my arm and then shifted forwards to retrieve the cans from the fire. He used a pair of sticks as pincers to lift them out carefully, placing them on the ground in front of us. He sighed down at our dinner.

"How we splitting this, you want beans or peas, or shall we have half and half each?" He asked.

"Half and half?" I shrugged. 

"Alright, here you go," he handed me a spoon from his satchel and I started on my half of the peas while he went at the beans. It was certainly no banquet but it was something warm to fill our bellies. 

"So, Colm's dead, I tried to throttle Micah… what a day this has been. Sadie told me that you and Dutch had a disagreement at the saloon earlier," I delicately broached the subject. 

"That why you went and spoke to him?" He asked. _Aw, shit._

"Yeah, I guess," I shrugged. I sensed him looking at me. "I just didn't want him treating you like crap because of me, so I went and told him that it's just me who wants us to leave."

"That ain't true," he protested.

"Yeah, I know. But it's simpler if Dutch thinks that."

"He ain't gonna be good to you, he thinks you're against him like that," he warned, and I shrugged carelessly. And I really didn't care. Dutch could fuck himself, to be frank.

"Whatever, just let me take the load off of you. You don't need him doubting you, you've got enough to worry about," I muttered, shaking my head and shovelling some more peas into my mouth. "I'm more interested in how you're feeling. He must've upset you."

"Just felt like he was throwing the past twenty years back in my face. I figure I've spent so long earning his trust and proving myself to him, and all it takes is me wanting the best for the woman I love for him to tell me that I ain't loyal. Maybe I _ain't_ loyal to him no more, I don't know," he shrugged his shoulders, "if I'm not, that's only because he's been acting crazy."

"If he wants everyone to blindly trust him, no matter what, he's gotta do better," I shrugged. "I don't trust him to have everyone's best interests at heart. If it was me running this gang, I'd've given John a bunch of money and told him to get lost with Abigail and Jack by now. The poor kid got kidnapped and he's been shot at in his own home at least twice," I used the term 'home' very lightly, but it was true nonetheless.

"We could probably afford to do it, too. John's brought in plenty of work, ain't like he hasn't earned his cut," Arthur mused under his breath, a bean falling off of his fork down his shirt when he paused before putting it in his mouth. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over the mark it left.

I looked down into my can. "I do understand why you can't leave, when I think about these things," I told him quietly. "I don't think I could live with myself either, if we ran off and left everyone else in this mess."

Arthur met eyes when I looked up at him. He didn't say anything but I saw him relax a bit, read relief in his eyes. I could tell it put him at ease to learn that I was on a similar page to him. We ate for a while longer and then swapped cans, and finished off the last of the peas and beans between us.

"How's your leg?" He asked, leaning back on one elbow, head tilting towards the sky where the stars were out.

"Getting there. You saw me walking without my cane today. That weren't on purpose, I forgot it, but maybe I don't need it no more," I replied, leaning back on my hands and looking down at my outstretched legs before joining him in looking at the sky.

"Just be careful, princess," he whispered. There was a stretch of silence before he spoke again, "I'm still hungry after that. Maybe I'll go out in the morning and get us some proper food," he said, and I chuckled.

"You ain't got no more food?" 

"I got some biscuits, not many though. Prob'ly not enough for two," he told me. I reached over and patted his belly.

"I won't ask for none," I assured him with a grin.

"You sure? I'd feel bad eating them in front of you," he said.

"I had some chocolate earlier, and I never shared it with you. Go for it."

"Where'd you get chocolate?" He asked, sitting up and retrieving the snack from his satchel.

"Pearson gave it to me, bless him."

"Pearson never gives me chocolate," he muttered to himself and I snorted, shaking my head.

It was quiet save for the crunching of Arthur's biscuits, and I leaned back, lying on the ground so I could watch the stars again. I felt sleepy and at peace. It was so good to be alone with Arthur, just quietly enjoying his company, completely alone for the first time in weeks. I wore an easy smile and released a content sigh, prompting Arthur to look at me.

"That's more like it. It's real good seeing you smile," he commented, brushing the biscuit crumbs from his short beard.

"It's just nice here. So peaceful," I noted, and he looked around and nodded. 

"I keep thinking I can hear Karen yelling, drunk, or Micah winding somebody up. Mind's playing tricks on me, it's just the waterfall," he said, shaking his head. 

"You sure? They ain't found us, have they?" I joked, making a show of looking around. Arthur laughed and laid down next to me, rolling over to half lean over me. He held himself up with his hand beside me, leaning down to kiss my forehead, then the tip of my nose.

"You look so pretty when you're happy. Not that you ain't pretty all the time, but when you're like this… makes me wanna wrap you up in my arms and keep you there," he said in a low, rumbling tone. I cupped his face and connected our mouths for a slow, open-mouthed kiss. 

It went on for some time, we lost ourselves in it indulgently, always letting the background of our surroundings slip away when we kissed like that. I could do it for hours. It might've been one of my favourite things to do with him. Arthur shifted so his elbow held him up and his free hand could go to my waist, his thumb rubbing the spot back and forth, his fingers squeezing in my shirt. I was hazy with adoration in moments, bringing one hand to his torso where I wrapped it around his suspender. 

When we broke away for air, Arthur's voice was gravelly and deep, almost a mere vibration in my ears.

"This is making me want you too much. Since the other day my thoughts ain't been anything close to pure–" he began, hearing himself and chuckling. "Sorry. I can't stop thinking about it. I wanna take you, out here, so I can watch your face while I make you feel good."

"I'm still– my monthly ain't finished," I whispered, though I was immediately turned on.

"I ain't squeamish," he said without missing a beat and I gasped and barked out a shocked laugh, smacking him lightly on the arm. He parted from me a bit so he could see my face properly.

"Arthur! That's so…" I laughed, shaking my head, not knowing what to say. "Dirty! In more than one sense."

"I'm sorry, I'm getting carried away again. You do that to me," he said, his cheeks reddening.

"It's okay. I just think– what a mess," I snickered, feeling my own face heat up with embarrassment. Arthur breathed a laugh too and laid down on his back next to me.

"You're probably right," he sighed. "It was worth a shot."

"Dirty boy," I muttered in faux-reprimand. 

"Only since I met you," he retorted accusingly.

"I was a virgin when I met you, remember that?"

"What're you insinuating, that I'm the one who's turnin' _you_ dirty?" He smirked at me and I chuckled.

"I don't know. Either way I'm not complaining."

"Mm, me neither."

His hand brushed against mine and he linked our pinky fingers. We were quiet for some time, and I was the one to tentatively break the silence.

"Mm, you know, if we were to go inside that tent…" I began, trailing off quietly. 

"Yes?" His voice rose in pitch playfully.

"I might not be able to offer you the full fun and games, but I've got a perfectly serviceable pair of hands," I squeaked. He hummed a sultry laugh.

"Miss Jemima," he breathed, shaking his head in false disapproval. 

"Is that a refusal?" I questioned. Arthur laughed breathily and rolled over onto his front enough to push himself to his knees. I watched him from my spot on the ground with a wide smile on my face. 

"Sweetheart, I'm in no fit state to refuse anything from you. Come on," he jerked his head playfully towards the tent and I snickered, sitting up and shuffling along with him inside.

-

I awoke to an empty bedroll beside me. I noticed the little piece of paper laying atop it quick enough not to panic over Arthur's absence, and plucked it up to read it. 

_Gone hunting for some breakfast, back soon. Won't go far.  
Love, Arthur_

I folded the note and slipped it away in my satchel, its sentimental value manifesting itself in an instant despite being something so simple. It had the memories of such a beautiful place and a peaceful night attached to it, of course.

I scooted out of the tent; the fire was going strong, Arthur had obviously tended to it before he left so I'd wake up to some warmth. It wasn't the warmest climate this far north. I warmed myself there for a few moments before tackling the act of getting to my feet. It was trickier than it looked without the ability to bend my leg as far as I needed to, but I got there in the end and headed away from our campsite into the woods to take care of some morning business. Then I headed towards the water to clean up a bit and splash some water on my face. The place looked different in the daylight, with the vivid violet snowdrops dotting the foliage and the sun glinting off the churned up surface of the water by the waterfall. 

I looked out across the river to the other side, taking in the trees that surrounded me. Movement caught my eye between them, all the way across the other side of the water. I stepped a little way to the left so I could see better, and spotted two figures in the trees. A gunshot made me jump, but it sounded like a varmint rifle so I wasn't too alarmed. I'd used one enough over the years to recognise its particular sound; less full-bodied than most rifles and almost a little hollow sounding.

I squinted and leaned forwards, trying to make out the figures. I was certain one of them was Arthur, recognising his blue shirt, but he was with someone else. A woman. From all the way across the river she looked a bit like Abigail, but there was no reason why she would be out here. 

I decided to investigate. I glanced back at our campsite and ensured that nothing valuable was left unattended, and whistled for Rayna who immediately closed the space between us. I used my good leg in her stirrup to lift myself onto her, side-saddle, and clicked at her to get moving. I crossed the water at the shallowest point, Rayna's big hooves _thu-dunking_ and splashing through noisily. I followed the path around into the part shrouded by trees, hearing their voices as I got closer. 

"Get ahold of its legs, have a firm grip, give it a hard pull. Straight down," Arthur was explaining. I didn't want to creep up on them but I also felt strange shouting out, so I waited until I was close enough for them to notice.

Arthur turned, his face brightening with a smile once he saw me. The woman hadn't noticed, focusing on skinning the rabbit in her hands. She tore the skin off in one clean pull, a technique I'd never had much success with myself, but she seemed to do okay. 

"Darlin', you're up," Arthur greeted. 

"I saw you from across the water," I said, suddenly feeling a little odd about having sought him out. I hoped he didn't think I didn't trust him. 

"Oh, hello there," the woman said when she noticed my arrival. I smiled at her as Arthur approached and helped me down off of Rayna, his hands on my waist as I slid off ensuring that I wouldn't land too hard on my feet and hurt myself.

"Hi," I replied, taking in her appearance. She looked slim and tired, her skin a little sallow and dirtied with mud. Her smile was weak behind her politeness, but she was pretty. 

"This is Mrs. Balfour, she lives in a house just up there," Arthur introduced her, pointing up the path. "I came across her when I was looking for game."

"Charlotte," she nodded, reaching her hand out towards me, then spotting the rabbit blood on it and thinking better of it, "you must be Mr. Morgan's partner. My sincerest apologies, it's my fault you're having to wait for your breakfast," she chuckled weakly.

"Oh, not at all," I shook my head.

"He was helping me find some food, he taught me how to skin this rabbit," she said, holding up the animal. "My… my husband passed, and I've been struggling ever since. Well, we were struggling before he died but that's a different story," she shook her head, looking off in the direction of her home.

"I'm so sorry," I frowned. She gave me a small, grateful smile.

"I haven't eaten in days, but this will keep me going. Thank you so much," she turned to Arthur. 

"Don't mention it," he said, gesturing with his hand for her to start heading back. "Let us walk you back." 

I tagged along with them, sounding for Rayna to follow and taking hold of her reins.

"Did your husband do all the hunting?" I gently asked, concerned about her lack of knowledge when living so far out of civilisation. 

"Tried to. Neither of us were any good, as I said to Arthur, we were City folk," she sighed, "just looking for some new escape. I don't know the first thing about hunting, can't even fire a gun properly."

Arthur and I glanced at each other, sharing the same look of worry. 

"You should probably learn… no use me teaching you how to skin an animal if you can't catch any," Arthur suggested and she nodded her head, looking down at her feet.

Rayna suddenly dug her feet in, pulling on the slack of the reins, whinnying in distress. A moment later there was a gasp from Charlotte and then a choir of wailing howls from above. My blood ran cold, I'd never heard that sound so close and I swivelled to see three wolves up on the slope, looking right at us. I froze in place, my legs going numb as Rayna tore the reins from my slack hand and understandably bolted in the other direction, a second before the wolves pounced forwards. 

Instinct sent my hand to my holster, pulling free my revolver and fumbling to pull back the hammer. _This_ was why sidearms stayed loaded. A series of gunshots sounded before I fired, I watched one wolf slam into the ground and slide down, a second wounded. I aimed at the third and shot, missing a couple of times before finally landing a shot in the animal's chest, sending it down before unloading the remainder of my shots into it for good measure while Arthur finished off the others.

There were a few moments of still silence once the wolves were finished. Adrenaline made my hands throb and my head pound; I turned to look at Charlotte and Arthur with wide eyes.

"I would be dead now, if it weren't for you two," she breathed, shaking her head and shoving her hand into her hair, "I'm completely hopeless." 

I shook my head, "you just need to practice shooting. I had to learn on my own years ago, I just kept trying. It gets easier, becomes second nature almost, aiming right," I told her in a tone I hoped would reassure her. 

"Okay," she sighed and nodded, and we carried on towards her home. 

I fell back a little to walk with Arthur, and spoke to him quietly. "Perhaps we could help her. Teach her how to shoot properly," I suggested.

"I was thinking the same thing," he nodded. "She just needs to eat right now but we could come back in a few days."

I nodded in agreement, then we reached the house. It was a pretty spot, right near the waterfall, neatly tucked away between trees and cliffs. Quiet and picturesque. I would've envied her if she wasn't so alone and struggling.

"I would invite you in, but I'm dead on my feet," she told us, breathing a little laugh. "But please, if you two are ever out this way again, do come and visit."

"Of course," I said, and Arthur nodded too. 

"It was nice meeting you both."

"You too, you take care ma'am," Arthur tipped his hat at her and I dipped my head politely.

"Thank you, for this," she looked at Arthur sincerely and Arthur awkwardly shifted on his feet. 

"Ain't no trouble," he shook his head.

"It's the kindest thing anyone's done for us since we… I appreciate it, a lot," she told him. "Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"Thank you," Arthur nodded, then Charlotte closed the door.

Arthur and I looked at each other then headed away. 

"That was good of you," I told him, hooking my hand over the arm he offered. "You're a sweet man."

"I just did what anyone would've done. She was starving," he shook his head dismissively but I didn't let him get away with it. I reached up to kiss his cheek.

"It was a kind thing, I'm proud of you," I said, smiling up at him, "this is why I love you."

He met my eyes, his own softening and warming. 

We reached the wolves and paused. "I guess this can be breakfast," I said.

"I suppose. And lunch, and dinner…" he chuckled, "better than letting it go to waste."

And so we set to work skinning and butchering the wolves. The pelts weren't in great shape, torn up by bullet holes evident of a panic, but they'd still come in useful around camp for extra warmth when the temperature dropped, as it occasionally did at the new camp. I stocked Rayna's back with the three pelts while Arthur finished cutting the usable meat from the animals, wrapping them up and distributing them between our satchels and the saddlebags. When we were done we took a moment to wash our hands in the river, cleaning away the blood and grease before mounting up together and heading back towards our campsite.


End file.
